Chapter 6 - The Shadows Close In
In the master suite, Elena awoke to the sound of Marco quietly entering the room. She bolted upright, pulling the blanket to her chin, her eyes wide with terror.
"Easy, Giuliana," Marco said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "Luca sent me. Franco is downstairs. He brought eight heavily armed men with him."
Elena’s heart plummeted into her stomach. "He came to finish it."
"Not while Luca is breathing," Marco replied, tossing her a pair of black tactical pants, a dark hoodie, and sturdy boots. "Get dressed. Now. We move in ninety seconds."
Elena moved faster than she ever had in her life. The timid maid who had spent six months scrubbing tiles vanished, replaced by the survival instincts of a mob boss’s daughter who had spent half a decade running for her life. She laced the boots tight, pulled her dark hair back into a ponytail, and followed Marco through the hidden door behind the master closet.
Downstairs, in the grand parlor, the tension was suffocating.
Don Franco sat on a vintage leather wingback chair, his silver hair impeccably combed, his heavy frame wrapped in a cashmere coat. Two hulking bodyguards stood behind him, their coats unbuttoned, displaying the grips of automatic submachine guns.
Luca entered the parlor with the slow, languid grace of an apex predator. He wore an unbuttoned black dress shirt and slacks, looking completely unbothered, as though he had merely been interrupted from a morning cup of espresso.
"Franco," Luca greeted, taking a seat opposite the older man. "You’re out early. I didn't know the docks required your personal attention at six in the morning."
"Business never sleeps, Luca," Franco chuckled, though his eyes were sharp, scanning Luca’s face for any tell. "I came because I received disturbing intelligence from our sources in New York. Rumors are spreading that Arturo Bellandi’s daughter is alive. And worse... that she was seen in this city."
Luca didn't flinch. He picked up an ornate silver lighter, flicking the flame, watching it dance.
"Fascinating," Luca said. "Arturo died five years ago. His bloodline ended with him."
"That's what we believed," Franco leaned forward, his voice lowering into a conspiratorial whisper. "But if she is alive, Luca, she is a rallying point for Bellandi loyalists. If someone gets their hands on her, they could challenge your legitimacy. I took the liberty of dispatching a sweep team to track her down. If we find her, I will personally ensure she is eliminated cleanly."
"How generous of you," Luca smiled, snapping the lighter shut. The sound was as sharp as a gunshot in the quiet room. "Always looking out for my throne, aren't you, old friend?"
Franco’s smile faltered slightly at the icy edge in Luca’s tone. "Of course. Your father was like a brother to me."
"Then why did you put your hands on my maid last night in the laundry gardens, Franco?"
The temperature in the room plummeted to absolute zero.
Franco’s bodyguards immediately reached for their weapons, but before their fingers could even wrap around their holsters, the parlor’s double doors were kicked open.
Marco, Enzo, and four Moretti snipers entered, their rifles trained directly on Franco and his men. Red laser dots danced across Franco’s forehead and the chests of his guards.
Franco’s face twisted into an ugly, sneering mask of hatred. He didn't raise his hands. Instead, a venomous chuckle escaped his throat.
"You arrogant little boy," Franco spat, dropping all pretenses of respect. "You think you're untouchable because you wear your father's ring? You have no idea what is coming for you."
"Enlighten me," Luca said, rising from his chair.
"Look out the windows, Luca," Franco sneered. "I didn't just bring eight men to your door. I brought the rest of the northern fleet. We’ve cut your phone lines. We jammed your radio frequencies. You’re isolated. Hand the girl over, give me the cipher to Bellandi’s vault, and I might let you walk out of this city alive."
Before Luca could answer, the shattering crash of glass echoed from the east wing of the estate.
Gunfire erupted outside—heavy, sustained, automatic fire.
May you like
The siege had begun.
***
