Chapter 16 - THE LION UNLEASHED“You wanted my empire, Julian,” Matteo said softly, taking a single, slow step forward. “I simply gave you an invitation to steal it.”
“Shoot him!” Vance shrieked, pointing a shaking finger at Matteo. “Kill them all!”
Before the mercenaries could pull their triggers, the heavy steel service doors were blown inward with a deafening bang. Flash-bang grenades cascaded across the concrete floor, detonating in blinding white light and concussive thunder.
The penthouse erupted into controlled chaos.
Before the mercenaries could recover their vision, Dante and the two enforcers moved through the smoke like phantoms, disarming and neutralizing the guards with brutal, clinical efficiency. Rifles clattered against the polished concrete; bodies hit the floor with heavy thuds.
Matteo didn't participate in the brawl. He walked straight through the flashing strobe lights and drifting smoke toward Julian Vance, who was backing away in sheer terror until the back of his knees hit the marble pedestal.
Vance stumbled, catching himself against the edge of the glass table, his face pale as paper. “You... you can’t do this. I’m an international syndicate head! I have political immunity!”
Matteo stopped two feet away from him. He reached into his vest pocket, pulled out his silver pocket watch, popped it open, and checked the time with agonizing slowness.
“Immunity only applies to men who understand the rules of the game, Julian,” Matteo whispered, snapping the watch shut with a sharp click.
Before Vance could react, Matteo lashed out—not with a fist, but with a sudden, devastating sweep that knocked Vance off his feet, sending him crashing hard onto the concrete floor. Matteo placed the heel of his boot firmly against Vance’s chest, pinning him to the ground with crushing weight.
“You tried to touch my wife,” Matteo said, his voice cold as an arctic glacier. “You tried to burn down the only peace I ever fought for.”
May you like
Vance gasped for air, clutching at Matteo’s boot, his eyes bulging with terror. “Mercy... please... take the money, take the ports, just—”
“Money is lazy restitution, Julian,” Matteo interrupted quietly. “Dante, package him up. Send him to the Hague via our private freight line. Let international tribunals sort out his political immunity.”
