Chapter 5 - Unmasking the JudasBack in the grand hall, the gunfire had dwindled to sporadic, desperate pops.
Rafael Conti and three of Damiano’s loyal enforcers had pinned the remaining mercenaries behind the mahogany bar. Viktor Vance, bleeding from a graze on his shoulder, backed toward the shattered French doors, his rifle barrel shaking.
"It's over, Viktor," Damiano said, walking forward over the shattered glass. His suit was pristine, untouched by the chaos, save for a single speck of dust on his lapel. "You backed the wrong horse. Silvio is eighty percent senile, and Castri has the spine of a jellyfish. You really thought they could run New York?"
"You don't understand, Verrone!" Viktor snarled, pressing a detonator against his belt. "The syndicate isn't yours anymore! The board voted you out! We have the judges, we have the senators—"
"You have nothing," a new voice echoed from the shadows of the staircase.
All heads turned.
Clara Reyes—the housekeeper, Maya’s mother—walked down the stairs. Her cheap cotton apron was gone, replaced by a tailored black trench coat. In her right hand, she held a sleek, military-grade encrypted tablet. In her left, she held a Beretta 92FS aimed with chilling, professional precision directly at Don Silvio Marchetti’s head.
Silvio’s jaw dropped. "Clara? You... you're just a maid from Queens—"
"I was an FBI deep-cover operative for seven years," Clara corrected, her voice ice-cold. "Then I watched my partner get buried because your syndicate bought the precinct. So I applied to clean your boss's house, Silvio. And for eight months, I watched you, I listened to you, and I waited for you to make your move."
Damiano looked at Clara, a slow, knowing smile touching the corner of his lips. "So you didn't accidentally lose that diamond, Clara. You baited the trap."
"I knew they were coming tonight, Mr. Verrone," Clara nodded respectfully toward the mafia king. "I just needed a catalyst. I needed someone to remind you what we were all fighting to protect."
She glanced briefly toward the service corridor where her daughter was hidden.
Don Emilio Castri panicked, lunging toward the side door. "This is madness! I'm getting out of here—"
May you like
Bang.
Rafael’s shotgun roared, blowing the door frame inches from Emilio’s nose. The old don collapsed onto his knees, pissing himself in terror as the smell of warm urine filled the air.
