Chapter 5 - THE SIEGE AT THE SAFEHOUSEBlood in the RainBefore Prattasio could launch his strike against the hotel, tragedy struck.
At 11:00 PM that night, an informant inside the safehouse network leaked their location to Marco. A convoy of four black SUVs pulled up to the abandoned fish processing plant. Twenty heavily armed mercenaries, led by Marco’s chief enforcer, a brutal killer known as "The Butcher" Franco, spilled out into the pouring rain.
CLANG.
The heavy metal door of the underground vault was blown off its hinges with C4 explosives. Smoke and dust filled the narrow corridors.
"Clear the rooms! Kill the dog, kill the woman, bring me Prattasio’s head!" Franco roared, stroking his assault rifle.
In the pitch blackness of the smoke-filled corridor, flashlight beams cut through the gloom.
Then, out of the shadows, came a sound that made the mercenaries' blood run cold.
It wasn't a human voice. It was a violent, echoing growl that seemed to come from the walls themselves.
WOOF.
A mercenary at the front of the line screamed as a hundred and thirty pounds of muscle and teeth ripped through the smoke. Veto hit the man full force, crushing his chest plate and tearing the weapon from his hands before dragging him into the darkness.
"Shoot it! Shoot the dog!" Franco shrieked, firing wildly into the dark.
Sparks flew off the concrete walls. But Veto moved like a phantom, utilizing the dark corners he had grown up navigating. He dragged another mercenary down, neutralizing him in seconds.
Simultaneously, muzzle flashes illuminated the far end of the hallway. Prattasio stepped out of the shadows, moving with terrifying precision. PIW! PIW! PIW! His suppressed pistol fired three times. Three mercenaries dropped instantly.
"He's alive! The ghost is alive!" a mercenary panicked, dropping his gun and running back toward the entrance.
Franco tried to turn and run, but a massive black shadow vaulted off a concrete pillar. Veto locked his jaws onto Franco’s shoulder, driving the massive enforcer onto his back in the wet gravel.
Prattasio walked up slowly, his boots crunching on broken glass. He pressed the red-hot barrel of his pistol directly against Franco’s forehead.
"Where is Marco right now?" Prattasio asked, his voice deathly calm.
Franco was weeping, coughing up blood. "He’s... he’s at the Grand Hotel Regal! In the penthouse suite! The Five Families are already there! They’re celebrating early!"
Prattasio looked down at the bleeding enforcer. "Tell God that Don Lori sends his regards."
THUD.
Prattasio didn't shoot him; he struck him unconscious with the butt of his gun, leaving him tied to a concrete pillar.
"Veto," Prattasio called softly.
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The Rottweiler immediately dropped his guard, trotted to his master's side, and sat down, his tongue hanging out, waiting for his next command.
"Good boy," Prattasio whispered, wiping a smear of red blood from the dog's snout. "Now... we go take back our home."
