Chapter 5 - THE SEAMSTRESS’S CUT
“Never underestimate a woman who handles blades for a living. We know exactly how deep to cut to make you scream.”The room erupted into absolute chaos.
Before the hitmen could process their boss being struck down by a civilian woman, Cosimo flipped the massive, heavy marble coffee table with a roar of pure, unadulterated primal strength. The heavy slab of stone slammed into two of the guards, crushing their legs and sending them crashing to the floor.
Cosimo snatched a fallen rifle from the ground and began firing with lethal, pinpoint accuracy.
Rat-tat-tat-tat!
Two guards were blown backward, their chests shredded by high-velocity rounds.
Donatella didn't hesitate. As the remaining guards opened fire, she dropped low, sliding across the slick hardwood floor like a shadow. A guard spun his rifle toward her, but she was already beneath his guard. She lunged upward, driving her titanium knife deep into the soft, unarmored spot beneath his armpit, piercing his lung.
The man choked on his own blood, collapsing over her. She brutally ripped the knife out, spun his dying body around to use as a human shield just as a hail of bullets from the final guard riddled his back.
Cosimo fired a single, clean shot through the final guard’s forehead. The man dropped instantly, his weapon clattering across the floor.
The penthouse fell dead silent again, filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder, smoke, and fresh blood.
Marco Moretti was on his knees, clutching his shattered jaw, blood dripping through his manicured fingers onto his pristine white suit. He looked up, his eyes wide with a terrifying blend of shock, agony, and disbelief. He was surrounded by the corpses of his best men.
Cosimo walked over slowly, his boots thudding heavily against the floor. He stood over the fallen Don, the smoking rifle aimed directly at Marco’s head.
“It’s over, Marco,” Cosimo said, his voice entirely cold, devoid of any emotion. “Your men are dead. Your play for my empire failed. And now, you’re going to answer for what you did to Antonio Rizzo.”
Marco let out a wet, gurgling laugh, blood bubbling past his lips. “You... you think you’ve won? Look around you, boy. Look at the girl. You think she’s on your side?”
Donatella walked over, her face splattered with blood, her titanium knife dripping crimson onto the floorboards. She stood right beside Cosimo, looking down at the man who had ordered her father’s death.
“I decoded the ledger while we were driving here, Cosimo,” Donatella said softly, her voice sounding strangely distant.
Cosimo frowned, not breaking his gaze from Marco. “And what did it say?”
“It didn't just list judges and bribes,” Donatella said, her hand subtly shifting behind her back. “It listed the names of the executioners. It listed the men who actually pulled the trigger on my father ten years ago.”
Marco’s bloody smile grew wider, looking truly demonic. “Tell him, girl. Tell him who actually shot your father.”
Donatella looked at Cosimo, her eyes completely filled with a profound, heartbreaking sadness. “The man who pulled the trigger wasn't one of Marco’s men, Cosimo. The ledger clearly states that the hit was carried out by a young, ambitious enforcer trying to prove his loyalty to the old guard. A twenty-eight-year-old hitman named... Cosimo Bellini.”
Cosimo’s heart stopped. He froze, his entire world tilting violently on its axis. He turned his head slowly to look at her. “Donatella... I...”
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“You lied to me,” she whispered, tears finally welling in her eyes, though her hand remained perfectly steady. “You used me to get the ledger. You used me to fix your wounds. You killed my father.”
“No,” Marco cackled from the floor. “He didn't just kill him. He took his place! He built his entire empire on your father’s blood!”
