Chapter 16 - The Hall of MirrorsThe hallway was pitch black, lit only by the faint silver moonlight filtering through the high arched windows.
"Clear?" whispered one of Marco's men behind him.
"Clear," Marco muttered, taking another step forward.
Suddenly, a massive floodlight blazed overhead, turning the hallway into a blinding white chamber. At the same time, heavy iron security grilles slammed down behind them with a deafening crash, sealing the corridor from both ends.
Marco spun around, raising his suppressed pistol. "Ambush! Fall back!"
"There is no back, Marco," a voice echoed through the vaulted ceiling—smooth, calm, and absolute.
Dominic Moretti stepped out from the shadows at the far end of the hall. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket; his shirtsleeves were rolled up, revealing the lean, coiled power of a man who spent his life surviving wars. In his hand, he held his firearm pointed casually toward the floor.
"You're a long way from Brooklyn, Marco," Dominic said, walking forward with unhurried, terrifying grace.
Marco raised his weapon, his hands shaking despite his bravado. "Drop your gun, Moretti, or my men outside—"
"Your men outside are currently tying their shoelaces for a very long trip to a federal black site," Dominic interrupted smoothly. "Vincenzo says hello, by the way."
Marco's eyes widened in horror. Without warning, he pulled the trigger—
Click.
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Dominic hadn't even flinched.
Marco stared down at his gun in sheer disbelief. The magazine clattered softly onto the marble floor, sliding across the polished stone toward Dominic’s polished shoes. Dominic had disabled their weapons before they even cleared the front gate.
