Chapter 4 - The Tables TurnMarco Moretti never got to pull his trigger.
Before the first enforcer could even raise his weapon, a deafening, synchronized roar shattered the silence of the docks.
CRACK-THUMP. CRACK-THUMP.
High above on the roofs of the towering shipping containers, blinding tactical spotlights snapped on simultaneously, turning the dark pier into broad daylight.
Marco flinched, throwing his hands up to shield his eyes from the glare. "What the hell—?"
"You forgot one rule in this city, Marco," a cold, calm voice echoed from the shadows behind the containers.
Dante stepped out into the light, flanked not by two or three men, but by twenty heavily armed DeLuca enforcers wearing tactical gear and carrying assault rifles with laser sights locked squarely on the Moretti crew's chests.
"Never assume the house is empty," Dante finished smoothly, leveling his weapon right at Marco’s forehead.
Panic instantly replaced the arrogant smirk on Marco’s face. He scrambled backward, looking wildly around the pier. "Kill them! Kill the girl! Shoot them all!"
The Moretti enforcers tried to raise their rifles, but they were too late. The tactical team opened fire with precision suppressing shots that kicked up a storm of gravel and shattered the kneecaps of two gunmen before they could even flick their safeties off.
In three seconds, the fight was over. Marco’s men dropped their weapons to the ground, falling to their knees with their hands locked behind their heads.
Lorenzo stood motionless in the center of the chaos, holding his daughter securely against his chest with one arm, while his free hand slid a heavy automatic pistol from his shoulder holster.
He walked slowly toward Marco, who was now trapped against a stack of steel containers, trembling like a leaf in a windstorm.
"L-Lorenzo, wait!" Marco stammered, holding his hands up in frantic self-defense. "It wasn't me! It was my uncle! He planned the hit on the bridge eight months ago! I just kept the kid hidden like he ordered! Don't kill me!"
Lorenzo stopped two feet away from him. His eyes were completely dead, devoid of any human emotion.
"You kept my daughter in a cage of lies for eight months," Lorenzo said softly, raising the barrel of his pistol until it pressed firmly against the center of Marco’s forehead. "You made me bury an empty box. You made my wife—" Lorenzo choked slightly on the word, his jaw tightening into a line of pure steel. "You made my family a ghost story."
"Please—" Marco whimpered, closing his eyes.
"Tell me one thing before you join your ancestors," Lorenzo whispered, his finger tightening on the trigger. "Isabella... did she suffer on that bridge?"
Marco opened his eyes, sweating profusely. "No... I swear to God, no! The truck hit the barrier, and she died instantly on impact before the fire started! We pulled the baby out before the explosion! We spared the kid because my uncle wanted leverage for the syndicate war!"
Lorenzo closed his eyes for a fraction of a second. A massive, crushing weight lifted off his chest, replaced by a cold, unstoppable fury.
"Thank you for the truth, Marco," Lorenzo said.
May you like
Bang.
The shot echoed out across the Hudson River, swallowed instantly by the roaring wind and the falling rain.
