Chapter 5 - The Reckoning
Rain was pouring in heavy, violent sheets over the north gate of the estate.
A massive black SUV sat idling in the gravel driveway outside the iron gates, its headlights cutting through the thick fog.
Inside the SUV sat Viktor Romanov and Frank Rossi. Frank was fifty years old, gaunt, with yellowed teeth and a face worn down by years of cheap alcohol and bitterness.
"Where are they?" Frank muttered nervously, wiping sweat from his forehead. "They should have been out with the woman ten minutes ago."
"Shut up, Frank," Viktor Romanov spat, checking his heavy gold watch. "My men are professionals. They'll have her."
Suddenly, the heavy iron gates of the estate began to swing open automatically, creaking loudly against the wind.
Headlights did not turn on inside the grounds. No security sirens were blaring.
Out of the darkness and heavy rain walked a single man.
Alessandro Moretti walked down the center of the gravel driveway alone. He wore no coat against the freezing rain. His black shirt was soaked, clinging to his broad shoulders. He walked with slow, deliberate steps, his hands resting casually in his trouser pockets.
Viktor Romanov’s eyes widened in disbelief. "What the hell..."
Frank Rossi went pale as paper. "That's Moretti. Where are your men?"
Alessandro stopped ten feet from the front bumper of the SUV. He stood tall in the pouring rain, looking directly through the windshield at the two men inside.
He slowly pulled his right hand out of his pocket and raised one finger, motioning for Frank to get out of the car.
Frank trembled. "Viktor, drive! Drive over him!"
Viktor grabbed his pistol, threw the car door open, and stepped out into the rain, aiming his weapon at Alessandro’s chest. "Where are my men, Moretti?!"
Before Viktor could pull the trigger, three red laser dots appeared on Viktor's chest from the dark trees lining the driveway.
Leo and six Moretti snipers stepped out from the woodland shadows, their heavy rifles trained on the vehicle.
Viktor froze, his hand shaking on the grip of his gun.
Alessandro walked up to Viktor, grabbed the gun out of his hand effortlessly, and tossed it into the mud. He reached into the driver’s side window, grabbed Frank Rossi by his leather collar, and dragged him screaming out of the vehicle onto the cold gravel.
Frank collapsed into the mud at Alessandro's feet, weeping frantically.
"Alessandro! Please!" Frank begged, clutching Alessandro’s wet trousers. "I thought you killed Marco! I thought you took Elena to hurt my family!"
Alessandro looked down at the pathetic man kneeling in the mud.
"Marco was a good man," Alessandro said, his voice booming over the sound of the rain. "He died because he trusted snakes like Romanov. I gave his widow a home. I gave his daughter a safe bed to sleep in."
Frank looked up, his jaw dropping in horror and realization. "You... you weren't holding them?"
"Elena is family," Alessandro declared, his voice echoing across the rainy estate grounds. "And anyone who threatens my family dies."
He turned his cold gaze to Viktor Romanov.
"Romanov," Alessandro said flatly. "Your business in New York is finished. Your territory in Brighton Beach belongs to the Moretti family as of five minutes ago. If I see your face in this city after sunrise, I will bury you beside your men."
Viktor swallowed hard, looked at the red laser dots covering his chest, and slowly backed away into his vehicle, abandoning Frank in the mud.
Alessandro looked down at Frank Rossi one last time.
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"Get up, Frank," Alessandro said coldly. "You're going to leave this country. And if you ever come near my estate again, not even your brother's memory will save you."
Alessandro turned his back on the men and walked back through the iron gates as they locked firmly behind him.
