Chapter 5 - Fire on the Water
When Carmine DeLuca received the call from a wounded Luca at 3:15 PM, he didn't shout. He didn't smash his desk.
He simply stood up, pulled a dark steel weapon from his desk drawer, and looked at Gideon.
“Mobilize everyone,” Carmine said.
Within ten minutes, twelve armored vehicles loaded with thirty elite DeLuca soldiers pulled out of the estate gates, tearing through the rain-soaked streets toward the industrial docks at Pier 42.
Carmine sat in the lead vehicle, his eyes cold, dead, and lethal. The warm, human man who had laughed with Ivy by the fire was gone. In his place was an ancient god of war coming to claim his blood tax.
At the far end of Pier 42 stood an abandoned cold-storage warehouse—a massive, rusting steel structure hovering over the dark, churning waters of the ocean.
Inside, rain leaked through the corrugated roof, dripping onto the concrete floor.
Ivy was tied securely to an iron chair in the center of the vast, hollow space. A thick rope wrapped around her waist and wrists. Her head throbbed violently from the crash and the gas, but as consciousness returned, she forced herself to stay calm.
Standing twenty feet in front of her was Don Fabrizio Moretti, sipping coffee from a paper cup, surrounded by ten heavily armed mercenaries. Beside him stood Vinnie Rossi, pacing back and forth nervously with an assault rifle in his hands.
“Is he coming?” Vinnie demanded, looking at his watch. “Are you sure he’s coming alone?!”
“He’s coming, you idiot,” Moretti spat, tossing his cup onto the concrete. “DeLuca cares about this girl. He proved that at the summit. He won't wait for the police or his lieutenants. He’ll come straight here to try and save her.”
Moretti walked over to Ivy, stopping right in front of her chair. He reached out with his yellowed finger, tipping her chin up.
“Look at you,” Moretti mocked. “A little maid who thought she could play queen in our world. You’re the bait that’s going to bring down the great Carmine DeLuca.”
Ivy glared at him. Despite the fear trembling in her blood, she didn't weep. She spat right at Moretti’s polished shoes.
“Carmine is going to kill you,” Ivy said, her voice clear, sharp, and ringing through the hollow warehouse. “He’s going to tear this building down around your heads.”
Moretti’s face contorted in anger, raising his hand to strike her—
BOOM!
The massive steel loading doors of the warehouse blew inward in a shower of sparks, twisted metal, and black smoke!
A heavy armored ram-truck smashed through the debris, coming to a halt twenty yards inside the building.
Before the smoke could clear, Carmine DeLuca stepped out of the vehicle.
He wore no armor. He held a single heavy pistol in his right hand. His dark coat billowed around him like a cloak of shadows as he walked through the fog, stepping over the burning wreckage.
Behind him, two dozen DeLuca soldiers poured through the breached doors, taking up sniper positions along the gantry walkways above!
Moretti’s mercenaries froze in terror, realizing within one second that they had been completely surrounded.
“DE-DELUCA!” Moretti shrieked, grabbing Vinnie and pulling him in front as a shield. “Don't move! I’ll tell my men to shoot the girl!”
Carmine didn't stop walking. He kept moving forward with steady, terrifying steps, his dark eyes locked entirely on Ivy.
When he saw her tied to the chair—saw the smudge of dirt on her cheek, but saw her unharmed and looking back at him—a microscopic sigh of relief passed through his chest.
“Fabrizio,” Carmine said, his voice echoing off the high steel beams like thunder. “You made a fatal mistake.”
“I have ten men!” Moretti yelled, his voice cracking with hysteria. “I have the high ground!”
“You have ten dead men,” Carmine corrected coldly.
POP! POP! POP! POP!
Four silenced sniper shots rang out from the high walkways above.
Four of Moretti’s mercenaries dropped instantly to the concrete floor, dead before they hit the ground.
The remaining six mercenaries dropped their weapons, raising their hands in absolute panic. “We surrender! We were just hired contractors! We don't want any part of this!”
Vinnie Rossi let out a terrified scream, dropping his rifle and backing away toward the edge of the pier loading bay behind the warehouse. “I’m out! I’m out!”
Fabrizio Moretti fell to his knees, his hands shaking violently as he looked up at the towering figure of Carmine DeLuca approaching him.
“Carmine… please…” Moretti whimpered, raising his hands. “It was Vinnie’s idea! He convinced me! I’ll give you my territory! I’ll give you the docks! Just spare my life!”
Carmine stopped three feet from the kneeling boss.
He didn't waste words on a traitor.
Carmine raised his pistol and pulled the trigger once.
BANG.
Moretti collapsed forward onto the wet concrete, motionless.
Carmine lowered his weapon, turned his back on the corpse, and rushed straight to Ivy.
He dropped to his knees in front of her chair, his long fingers working frantically at the ropes binding her wrists. His hands were shaking—not with fear, but with the raw, overwhelming relief of holding her again.
“Ivy,” Carmine murmured, his voice breaking with emotion he had never shown to another human being. “Are you hurt? Did they lay a hand on you?”
“No,” Ivy sobbed, tears finally breaking through as the ropes fell away. “I’m okay, Carmine… I’m okay!”
She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face into his coat.
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Carmine wrapped his broad arms around her, pulling her small frame tight against his chest, kissing her hair over and over again amidst the smoke and echoes of gunfire.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered fiercely against her cheek. “I’ve got you, my love. You’re safe. Nobody will ever touch you again.”
