Chapter 3 - Blood on the Snow
At 11:45 PM, the winter storm hit its peak. Thick, blinding sheets of white snow swept across Lake Michigan, burying the lawns of the Greystone estate under a heavy, freezing blanket.
Near the east gate, Captain Marcus Vance stood inside the small wooden guard hut, a glowing cigarette dangling from his lips. He checked his tactical watch.
11:58 PM.
Marcus reached into his heavy tactical parka, pulled out a small black remote control, and flipped the safety cover open. He pressed the red button twice.
Fifty yards away, buried beneath the snow near the stone wall, the secondary electronic relay sparked quietly. The massive, twenty-foot iron gate unlocked with a soft, hydraulic hiss and began to slide open, leaving a ten-foot gap in the estate's perimeter.
Through the curtain of falling snow, six dark figures emerged from the tree line like specters. They wore black winter gear, holding suppressed submachine guns trained on the house.
At the front of the strike team was Luca Moretti—the younger brother of the New York boss, a vicious killer who had personally requested the honor of putting a bullet through Adrien Romano’s head.
Luca stepped through the open gate, brushing past Marcus, who nodded grimly.
"Is the Don in his study?" Luca hissed, his breath rising in thick white clouds in the freezing air.
"He arrived twenty minutes ago through the main drive," Marcus lied smoothly, his eyes scanning the quiet estate. "He's alone in the east library. My three men have disabled the internal motion sensors. You have a clear path to the rear terrace."
"Good," Luca sneered, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "The Moretti family sends its regards."
The six hitmen moved swiftly across the deep snow, taking cover behind the large stone statues and frozen fountains that decorated the sprawling gardens.
They reached the glass terrace doors leading into the east wing. Luca signaled to his point man, who attached a small suction cup and a glass-cutter to the paned door.
CLICK.
The glass unlocked. The hitmen slipped inside the warm, dark interior of the mansion, their boots leaving wet, muddy tracks across the pristine white marble floor.
They advanced down the hallway in a tactical stack, their weapons raised, heading directly toward the high mahogany doors of the library.
Luca raised three fingers. Two. One.
He kicked the heavy mahogany doors wide open. "Romano! Time to pay your—"
The library was empty.
No fire roared in the fireplace. No grand leather chair was occupied. The room was deathly quiet, illuminated only by the pale moonlight filtering through the high windows.
Luca’s blood ran cold. "It's a trap! Fall back!"
They spun around to rush back into the hallway, but the heavy mahogany doors slammed shut behind them with the force of a thunderclap. High-grade steel shutters dropped over every window in the room, sealing the exit instantly.
From the dark upper balcony overlooking the library, a single spotlight clicked on, blinding the six men below.
Adrien Romano stood at the edge of the balcony, dressed in a black turtleneck and dark tactical trousers, his dark eyes looking down at them like an ancient judge pronouncing sentence.
Beside him stood Mateo, flanked by ten heavily armed Romano enforcers whose laser sights painted red dots across the chests of the six hitmen below.
"Luca," Adrien’s voice echoed off the high ceiling, cold, resonant, and entirely unbothered. "You traveled all the way from New York in a snowstorm just to break into my reading room?"
Luca’s face went white with sheer terror. He raised his submachine gun toward the balcony, but before his finger could touch the trigger, a single suppressed shot echoed through the room.
THWIP.
Luca screamed as a bullet shattered his right knee, sending him crashing to his knees on the Persian rug, his weapon skidding across the floor.
"Drop your weapons," Mateo ordered flatly. "Or the next rounds take your heads."
The remaining five hitmen dropped their guns instantly, their hands flying into the air, trembling violently.
"Marcus!" Luca spat, clutching his bleeding knee as he glared up at Adrien. "Marcus sold you out! He took two million from my brother!"
"I know," Adrien said quietly.
He turned his head slightly. Two guards pushed the side door open, dragging Marcus Vance into the library. Marcus’s face was bruised, his hands bound tightly behind his back with heavy zip-ties. His eyes were wide with frantic, pathetic panic.
"Don Adrien! Please!" Marcus wept, falling to his knees beside Luca. "They threatened my family! They forced me!"
Adrien walked down the grand spiral staircase, his boots clicking softly against the marble steps. He stopped three feet in front of the traitor who had served as his security captain for five years.
"You didn't do it for your family, Marcus," Adrien said softly, reaching into his coat and pulling out a thick manila envelope. He tossed it onto the floor in front of Marcus. "You did it for a offshore account in the Caymans and a penthouse in Miami."
Marcus stared at the papers spilling from the envelope—bank statements, wire transfer records, and property deeds that Mateo’s tech team had uncovered in less than an hour.
"You put a price on my life," Adrien whispered, leaning down until his dark eyes were inches from Marcus's pale face. "And worse... you put a price on the lives of everyone under this roof."
"Boss... please..." Marcus sobbed, pressing his forehead against the blood-stained rug.
"Take them to the cellar," Adrien commanded Mateo, standing back up and adjusting his cuffs. "Keep Luca alive. I want his brother to hear his voice over the phone before sunrise. As for Marcus..."
Adrien paused, looking down at his hand—the same hand that had washed shoe polish off a three-year-old child's fingers just two hours ago.
"Leave Marcus in the cellar until the doctor finishes treating Grace," Adrien ordered grimly. "Then let him spend his final hours reflecting on why loyalty is something a child understands better than a grown man."
As the guards dragged the screaming traitors away, Adrien walked out of the library and back into the main corridor.
May you like
The estate was secure once more. The threat had been neutralized with absolute, cold efficiency.
Yet, as Adrien walked up the grand staircase toward the master suite, he didn't feel the usual cold satisfaction of a victory in war. He felt an urgent, overwhelming need to check on the small room in the west wing where a mother and her child were sleeping peacefully, completely unaware that the storm outside had finally passed.
