Chapter 4 - Blood on the Linoleum
The basement door was thrown open with violent force.
Julian Moretti stepped into the hallway, flanked by four heavy enforcers carrying machine pistols. He was wearing a camel-hair coat, his gold signet ring sparkling under the weak hallway light.
"Sophia!" Julian called out arrogantly as he walked down the narrow corridor toward apartment 3B. "I brought the boy some new drawing paper. Make it quick, I have a board meeting at—"
Julian kicked open the door to apartment 3B and froze.
The apartment was empty, except for a single chair sitting in the center of the room.
Sitting in the chair, illuminated by the pale fire of the gas stove, was Alessandro. He was calmly tossing a heavy gold lighter from hand to hand.
Julian’s breath hitched in his throat. The four guards behind him raised their weapons instantly.
"Alessandro...?" Julian stammered, his face turning grey. "What... what are you doing here?"
"Looking for my son," Alessandro said softly, catching the lighter in his palm. "And funny thing, Julian... I found him."
Julian swallowed hard, his eyes darting frantically around the small room. "Alessandro, listen to me... it’s not what you think. I found out where the Camorra was keeping them! I came here today to rescue them for you!"
Alessandro stood up from the chair. He walked slowly toward his brother, completely unbothered by the four loaded guns pointed at his heart.
"You sat at my table, Julian," Alessandro said, his voice echoing in the small room like thunder. "You drank my wine. You hugged me while I cried for my boy. You let my wife rot in a basement for three hundred and sixty-five days."
"Shoot him!" Julian screamed in a panic, backing away into the hallway. "Shoot him now!"
Before the guards could pull their triggers, the small windows at the top of the basement walls shattered inward.
Alessandro's elite strike team—who had been tracking Julian's convoy from the moment Luca called them—poured into the basement like shadows. Silenced gunfire cracked through the tight space.
Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.
Julian's four guards dropped to the floor instantly.
Julian stumbled backward, falling onto his back against the wet concrete floor of the hallway. He scrambled back, his hands covered in blood, until his spine hit the rusted iron door frame.
Alessandro walked out of the apartment, stepping over the fallen bodies, and stood directly over his brother. He pulled a heavy chrome revolver from inside his coat and rested the barrel directly against Julian's forehead.
"Please... Alessandro... we're brothers... blood!" Julian sobbed, pressing his hands together in prayer. "Don't do this!"
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"Brothers protect each other's children, Julian," Alessandro said, his eyes cold and empty as the grave. "You stopped being my brother the second you made my son cry."
A single gunshot echoed into the Bronx rain.
