Chapter 8 - THE PRICE OF VENGEANCEThe rain poured down in relentless sheets, hissing against the hot metal barrels of the enforcers' weapons.
Luca stared at the remote control in Vincenzo’s hand. For a fraction of a second, his expression tightened.
Vincenzo laughed triumphantly, seeing the momentary hesitation in his nephew's eyes. "Ah, I see the great Luca Moretti isn't quite as invincible as he pretends! Drop your weapon, Luca. Kick it across the courtyard, or I swear to God, your daughter dies right here, right now."
Marco and the other enforcers tensed, looking at Luca for the command to open fire, but a single microscopic gesture from Luca’s hand kept them frozen in place.
Slowly, deliberately, Luca unclipped his Beretta from his shoulder holster.
He looked directly into Vincenzo’s cold, triumphant eyes.
"You always underestimated one fundamental rule of the Moretti family, Uncle," Luca said softly, his voice cutting clearly through the roar of the thunder.
Vincenzo frowned, his thumb pressing slightly harder against the button. "What are you rambling about?"
"A true king never relies solely on the guards he can see," Luca murmured.
Suddenly, a bright red laser dot appeared dead center on Vincenzo’s forehead.
Vincenzo’s eyes widened in instant, paralyzing terror. He whipped his head around toward the upper cliffside ridge, but before he could even utter a single syllable, a suppressed sniper shot cracked through the storm.
Pfft.
The bullet struck Vincenzo’s wrist with surgical precision, shattering the bones in his hand and instantly knocking the remote control flying through the air.
Before the remote could hit the wet cobblestones, Luca moved with lightning-fast reflexes, catching it mid-air in his palm.
From the upper cliffs, Dr. Vance stepped out from behind a concrete observation post, lowering a specialized long-range tactical sniper rifle fitted with thermal dampeners.
Vincenzo screamed in agony, clutching his shattered, bleeding wrist, stumbling backward against the door of his Maybach. "Kill him! Kill them all!" he shrieked to his remaining mercenaries.
Before the mercenaries could raise their assault rifles, the perimeter walls of the estate suddenly illuminated with blinding stadium lights. A dozen heavy Moretti armored vehicles crashed through the secondary estate gates, their heavy machine guns locking onto the Vanguard mercenaries, trapping them in an inescapable crossfire.
"Drop your weapons or be executed where you stand!" Marco roared through a megaphone, his voice echoing thunderously across the hills.
Within ten seconds, every single Vanguard mercenary dropped their weapons to the wet ground, raising their hands in surrender.
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Luca walked slowly toward his bleeding, trembling uncle, the heavy rain washing the blood from his tailored suit. He stopped right in front of Vincenzo, looking down at the man who had orchestrated a nightmare lasting more than a decade.
"You wanted an empire, Uncle," Luca whispered coldly, pressing the remote control into Vincenzo's shattered, bloody hand. "Now you can spend the rest of your life running a prison cell."
