Chapter 4 - The Shadow at the Gate
The truth hung between them like a blade drawn from a sheath, glittering and absolute.
Before Roderick could speak, a sudden, harsh sound shattered the tension in the room.
CRASH!
Downstairs, the heavy oak front door of the house was kicked open with tremendous force, the splintering of wood echoing up the narrow stairwell.
“Check the upstairs!” a voice yelled from below—a rough, gravelly voice Roderick recognized instantly.
It was Lorenzo Vannucci—the younger brother of Leo Vannucci, a notoriously violent, reckless capo who had been trying to start a war over the riverfront routes for six months.
The young boy on the stool, Marco, gasped in sheer terror. “It’s Lorenzo... if he finds me here, he’ll kill me! He told us anyone who retreats from the dock skirmishes is a traitor!”
Adriana immediately stepped in front of the boy, turning toward the stairwell door.
Roderick moved faster.
With a single, swift motion, he grabbed Adriana by the waist and pulled her behind him, stepping directly between her and the hallway door. His hand swept back to his holster, drawing the Colt .45 before his breath had even hitched.
“Stay behind me,” Roderick commanded, his voice dropping into that terrifying, icy calm that had made him the legend of the docks.
The door to the second-floor clinic burst open.
Lorenzo Vannucci stepped into the doorway, holding a silenced submachine gun. Behind him stood three heavy mercenaries wearing rain-soaked leather jackets, their weapons raised.
Lorenzo stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Roderick Sabatini standing in the middle of a dimly lit room full of bandages and medical trays.
“Sabatini?” Lorenzo sneered, his eyes widening in complete shock, then twisting into a cruel, triumphant grin. “Well, well... what do we have here? The King of the Port, hanging around a rat-hole in the Ninth Ward? What’s the matter, Sabatini? Run out of cognac in the Garden District?”
Lorenzo’s eyes flicked over Roderick’s shoulder, landing on Adriana.
“Ah,” Lorenzo purred, his smile widening into something sickening. “The fiancé. The sweet little physical therapist. So this is where you run off to every night, girl? We’ve been tracking your car for two weeks, trying to figure out which one of our stash houses you were leaking to.”
“She isn't leaking anything, Lorenzo,” Roderick said, taking a slow, heavy step forward. His tall, broad frame completely blocked Adriana from Lorenzo’s sightline. “She’s saving your soldiers’ lives while you leave them to bleed in the mud.”
Lorenzo laughed—a harsh, barking sound. “I don't give a damn about these useless rats. But finding you here, Sabatini... unprotected, without your guards... this is a Christmas gift in July.”
Lorenzo raised the submachine gun, leveling it straight at Roderick’s chest.
“Kill him,” Lorenzo ordered his men. “We dump his body in the canal, and by morning, the Sabatini empire belongs to us.”
Roderick didn't flinch. He didn't even raise his gun to guard his own body. He simply looked at Lorenzo with a cold, merciless stare that belonged to a man who had died ten years ago in the same ground as his younger brother.
“You made two mistakes tonight, Lorenzo,” Roderick said softly.
Lorenzo paused, his finger tightening on the trigger. “Yeah? What’s that?”
“First, you brought three men to a fight where you needed thirty,” Roderick murmured. “Second... you assumed I came alone.”
Before Lorenzo could process the words, the glass windows along the balcony shattered into a million glistening shards.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
Cyrus Nolan and two Sabatini security officers burst through the broken frame, their silenced pistols barking in the dark before Lorenzo’s men could even turn their heads.
Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!
The three mercenaries collapsed to the floor instantly, their weapons clattering against the hardwood.
Lorenzo gasped, spinning around in panic, but Roderick closed the distance in a fraction of a second. He grabbed the barrel of Lorenzo’s submachine gun, ripped it violently from his grip, and slammed his heavy iron fist directly into Lorenzo’s jaw.
Lorenzo crashed to his knees, blood spraying from his mouth, groaning in agony.
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Roderick stood over him, pressing the cold barrel of his Colt .45 against the center of Lorenzo’s forehead.
“Roderick! No!” Adriana screamed from behind him, rushing forward and grabbing his arm.
