Chapter 8 - THE GHOST WALKS AMONG THE LIVINGThe Ballroom Massacre"KILL HIM!" Marco shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at Prattasio. "KILL THEM BOTH!"
Ten of Marco’s personal bodyguards drew their weapons.
"Veto, TAKEDOWN!" Prattasio commanded.
Veto exploded into motion. He didn't just run; he moved like a black fury across the polished dance floor. He leaped over a banquet table, flipping it onto two bodyguards, and hit the head of security full in the chest, disarming him instantly.
Prattasio drew two suppressed pistols from his coat.
PIW-PIW-PIW-PIW!
He fired with lethal, terrifying precision. Every shot found its target—not the bosses of the Five Families, but Marco’s traitorous lieutenants. Bodies dropped onto the white marble floor, blood staining the immaculate table linens.
The rest of the guests scrambled in terror, shoving past each other toward the exits. The heads of the Five Families cowered under the heavy oak tables.
Marco turned and ran like a coward, sprinting up the spiral staircase toward the private helipad on the roof.
"Veto! On me!" Prattasio ordered.
Veto released the guard he was holding, gave a sharp bark, and bounded up the stairs right behind Prattasio.
They pursued Marco through the narrow stairwell, the sound of Marco’s heavy, panicked breathing echoing from above.
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"You can't kill me, Prattasio!" Marco yelled from above, firing blindly down the stairwell. "The Five Families approved it! You’re obsolete! The world has changed!"
"The world hasn't changed, Marco," Prattasio called back, stepping over the spent shell casings as he climbed, his voice chillingly steady. "You just forgot who built it."
