Chapter 5 - The War at the Estate
Night fell over New York, bringing with it a heavy, howling rainstorm.
At 2:00 AM, three sleek black armored vans glided through the iron gates of the Moretti estate, their headlights off. The security alarms had been disabled from the inside—or so Don Lorenzo Rossini believed.
Marco, forced at gunpoint by Bruno, had sent a text to Lorenzo an hour earlier: Alejandro is unconscious. The guards are relaxed. Strike now and take the estate.
Over twenty heavily armed mercenaries, led by Don Lorenzo himself, poured out of the vans and rushed into the dark mansion. Lorenzo, a tall, ruthless man with a silver beard and a scar across his eye, grinned wickedly as he stepped into the grand foyer.
"Finally," Lorenzo whispered to his second-in-command. "The Moretti empire is ours. Kill everyone. Leave no witnesses."
Suddenly, floodlights erupted from every corner of the grand foyer, blinding Lorenzo and his men with searing white light.
CLICK-CLICK.
From the upper balconies, dozens of heavily armed Moretti enforcers materialized, their automatic rifles pointed directly down at Lorenzo’s men. The exit doors behind them slammed shut with heavy steel security shutters.
Lorenzo’s smile instantly vaporized. "What the hell?!"
Step by step, Alejandro emerged onto the center balcony overlooking the foyer, completely healthy, looking down at his rival with calm, absolute dominance.
"Welcome to my home, Lorenzo," Alejandro spoke, his voice echoing loudly over the storm raging outside. "I hope you brought enough men to fill twenty graves."
"Moretti!" Lorenzo spat, raising his submachine gun. "Marco told me you were dying!"
"Marco lied," Alejandro replied coolly. "Just like you lied when you thought you could take what is mine."
"Fire!" Lorenzo screamed.
Chaos erupted. Gunfire shattered the quiet night as a fierce, intense battle broke out in the foyer. But Alejandro’s men had the high ground and total tactical superiority. Within minutes, Lorenzo’s mercenaries were systematically cut down.
Lorenzo, panicked and bleeding from a shoulder wound, broke away from the main fight and fled down the servant corridor, desperate to find an exit. He kicked open a door at the end of the hall, bursting into a small, elegant tearoom.
He froze.
Standing in the corner of the room, protected by two elite guards, was Clara, holding little Emma close to her chest.
Lorenzo’s eyes flashed with desperate, psychopathic malice. He raised his gun, targeting Clara and the child. "If I'm dying tonight, Moretti loses his people too!"
"EMMA!" Clara shrieked, shielding her daughter with her own body.
Before Lorenzo could pull the trigger, a thunderous gunshot shattered the air.
BANG!
Lorenzo’s weapon flew from his hand as a high-caliber bullet tore through his wrist. Lorenzo screamed in agony, falling to his knees.
Alejandro stepped through the doorway, a smoking chrome revolver in his hand. His dark eyes were burning with an apocalyptic rage that terrified even the dying Rossini Don.
Alejandro walked over, placed his heavy leather boot directly onto Lorenzo’s chest, and pressed down hard until Lorenzo gagged for air.
"You targeted my family," Alejandro whispered, pointing the barrel of his gun directly between Lorenzo’s eyes. "You tried to use poison because you were too much of a coward to face me like a man. And then you pointed a gun at an innocent child."
"Please... Alejandro..." Lorenzo begged, coughing up blood. "Mercy..."
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"Mercy died three years ago with my daughter," Alejandro said coldly. "And tonight, a new daughter gave me back my life."
BANG.
