Chapter 6 - SHADOWS IN THE DOCK"What the hell is that?!" Don Valenti screamed as darkness enveloped the warehouse.
Red emergency strobe lights began to flash rhythmically, painting the walls in blood-colored light.
Sophia had slipped through the old ventilation shafts of the administrative building, guided by the precise blueprints she had studied in the estate’s archive before the fire. She had located the main power breaker and pulled the master kill switch.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Rocco moved like a shadow in the crimson light.
Before the mercenaries could adjust their night vision, Rocco fired three precise shots. Three guards fell to the floor instantly.
"Protect the Don!" a mercenary yelled, firing wildly into the dark.
Rocco rolled behind a stack of wooden crates, reloading his magazine in less than two seconds. He popped up and took down two more men who were trying to maneuver around his flank.
In the chaos, Don Antonio grabbed Isabella by her arm, trying to drag her toward the rear exit elevator. "Move, you useless woman!" he spat.
"Get your hands off my wife!" Rocco roared.
Rocco sprinted through the crossfire, ignoring a bullet that grazed his shoulder. He closed the distance between himself and his father, slamming his shoulder into Antonio and sending the old man crashing into a heavy iron pillar.
Don Valenti pointed his gold gun at Rocco’s back. "Die, Moretti!"
CLANG!
A heavy steel fire extinguisher dropped from the upper catwalk twenty feet above, striking Don Valenti square on the head. He dropped to his knees, dazed and bleeding, dropping his gun.
High above on the catwalk, Sophia stood near the railing, holding a metal pipe she had used to dislodge the extinguisher. She gave Rocco a quick thumbs-up.
Rocco didn't waste a second. He snatched Valenti’s dropped weapon, turned, and fired a non-lethal shot into both of Valenti's knees, dropping the syndicate boss for good.
He then rushed to Isabella, taking out his tactical knife and slicing the ropes binding her wrists and ankles.
"I’ve got you," Rocco whispered, lifting her fragile frame into his arms. "I’ve got you, Isabella."
"Rocco... behind you!" she gasped.
Rocco spun around just as Antonio stumbled back to his feet, holding a small, concealed derringer pistol aimed directly at Rocco's heart.
"You were always my biggest disappointment, Rocco," Antonio hissed, his finger tightening on the trigger. "You soft, romantic fool—"
BANG!
A single gunshot echoed through the high-ceilinged warehouse.
Antonio’s eyes widened in shock. He looked down at his chest, where a dark red stain was blooming over his white shirt.
He dropped his gun, collapsing onto his knees before falling flat onto the cold concrete.
Behind him stood Marco, Rocco’s loyal security chief, holding a smoking rifle, surrounded by twenty fully armed Moretti tactical guards who had just breached the rear doors.
"Sorry we're late, Don Rocco," Marco said, lowering his rifle. "The little girl gave us the exact coordinates over the radio frequency."
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Rocco looked up at the catwalk where Sophia was carefully climbing down the emergency ladder.
"You're not late, Marco," Rocco said softly, cradling Isabella against his chest. "You're right on time."
