Chapter 6 - THE SHADOW IN THE WING
While the master suite was filled with a fragile, hard-earned peace, the service wing of the Falcone estate was plunged into a very different kind of tension.
Down in the narrow, dimly lit corridors of the ground floor, old Gino was quietly packing his small leather suitcase. At seventy years old, he had seen bosses come and go, empires rise and fall, and blood wash clean across the marble floors. He knew that tonight’s events were only the beginning of a much larger war. The Rossi syndicate wouldn't go down quietly. Even with Bianca in a holding cell and her father’s ledgers in federal hands, there were loyal capos still lurking in the shadows of Providence—men who had nothing left to lose.
A soft tap sounded at Gino’s door.
Gino opened it to find little Toby standing there in his oversized sweater, clutching a small, worn-out stuffed bear.
"Gino? Is Ms. Nadia okay?" the boy asked, his big eyes wide with worry. "I heard shouting. I saw the police cars arriving outside."
Gino knelt down, placing a gentle, weathered hand on the boy’s small shoulder. "Everything is going to be all right, Toby. The bad people are leaving. And Ms. Nadia is safe with the master upstairs."
"Are we leaving too?" Toby asked quietly, picking up on the suitcase near the bed.
Gino hesitated, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. "Not yet, my boy. But we have to be ready. In this house, peace is never permanent."
Before Gino could close the suitcase, a heavy, metallic click echoed down the hallway.
It wasn't the sound of a door latch. It was the distinct, unmistakable sound of a suppressed pistol slide racking into place.
Gino’s blood ran cold. He shoved Toby behind his back instantly, his old eyes darting toward the shadows of the dimly lit service corridor.
"Who's there?" Gino barked, his voice steady despite the adrenaline spiking in his veins.
From the darkness of the hallway, a tall figure stepped into the dim amber light. It wasn't a federal marshal. It wasn't one of Lucas's trusted guards.
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It wore a tailored dark suit, soaked with rain, and held a silenced Glock aimed directly at Gino’s chest. It was Marco Rossi—Bianca’s ruthless uncle, a man who had managed to slip through the dragnet before the federal warrants were finalized.
"Old man," Marco snarled, a psychotic grin stretching across his scarred face. "Tell your boss that the Rossi family doesn't lose. And if we can't have the Falcone empire... we'll take his new little family apart, piece by piece."
