Chapter 5 - The Purge of Chicago
By 6:00 a.m., the rain had stopped, giving way to a crisp, golden sunrise over Lake Michigan.
The medicine had worked its miracle. The pale, ghost-like grayness in my face was gone, replaced by healthy color and renewed strength. I stood in my private armory beneath the mansion, dressing in a sharp, tailored black three-piece suit, adjusting my crimson silk tie in the full-length mirror.
Leo stepped into the armory, handing me a heavy leather folder.
"Report, Leo," I said, putting on my gold cufflinks.
"Vanessa’s father, Richard Vale, was caught trying to board a private jet to the Bahamas at O'Hare Airport an hour ago," Leo reported with a dark grin. "Our men intercepted his motorcade. He’s currently sitting in the river warehouse alongside his daughter."
"And the Donati family?" I asked, slipping a silver pocket watch—a family heirloom—into my vest pocket.
"Donati thought you were dead," Leo laughed softly. "He assembled his top captains at the Grand Plaza Hotel downtown to celebrate the takeover of the river docks. They have no idea you're standing up, let alone fully cured."
I picked up my heavy gold pinky ring—the symbol of the Syndicate Don—and slid it onto my finger.
"Assemble the heavy detail," I commanded coldly. "Fourteen black SUVs. We are going to attend Donati's celebration."
Thirty minutes later, a fleet of sleek black vehicles tore through the streets of downtown Chicago, stopping directly outside the private entrance of the Grand Plaza Hotel.
Forty heavily armed Moretti enforcers stepped out, sealing off the lobby, the elevators, and the emergency exits with lethal speed.
I stepped through the revolving glass doors of the penthouse ballroom, flanked by Leo and eight soldiers carrying automatic weapons.
Inside the opulent hall, forty high-ranking members of the rival Donati family and corrupt city officials were drinking champagne, laughing loudly around a massive buffet table. At the center stood Don Salvatore Donati—a bloated, ruthless man in his late fifties—holding a glass high in the air.
"To the demise of Mateo Moretti!" Donati cheered loudly. "The young lion is dead! Chicago belongs to—"
BOOM!
Leo kicked the double oak doors off their hinges, sending them crashing into the room!
The music stopped instantly. Glasses shattered on the marble floor.
Every single mobster in the room turned around, their faces draining of color as if they had just seen a ghost rising from the grave.
I walked into the center of the ballroom, my leather shoes clicking smoothly against the floor, my hands tucked casually into my trousers pockets. I looked vibrant, powerful, and completely imposing.
"You were saying, Salvatore?" I asked, my voice echoing through the silent hall like a death knell.
Donati dropped his champagne glass, his jaw hanging open in sheer, unadulterated horror. "Moretti...? How... you were poisoned! Richard Vale swore you wouldn't survive the week!"
"Richard Vale was a fool," I said smoothly, stopping three feet from Donati. "And his daughter was an amateur. Did you really think a little heavy metal in my tea could take down the Moretti bloodline?"
Donati’s hand reached frantically toward his shoulder holster—
CRACK!
Before he could draw his weapon, I pulled my suppressed pistol and shot the gun right out of his hand, sending his firearm spinning across the marble floor along with two of his fingers!
Donati shrieked in pain, falling to his knees, holding his bloody hand against his chest!
"Listen to me carefully, all of you!" I announced, looking around the room at the terrified mob bosses and corrupt politicians. "The war is over. The Vale family is erased. The Donati territory on the docks is seized by the Moretti family as of this second. Anyone who wishes to challenge my rule... stand up now."
Not a single man moved.
May you like
Grown, hardened killers bowed their heads, dropping their weapons onto the floor one by one in absolute submission.
"Good," I said, putting my gun back into my holster. "Leo, clean up this room. I have a breakfast date with my daughter."
