Chapter 6 - The Fall of the House of Valenti
For a fraction of a second, nothing happened on the bridge.
Then, six miles away in downtown Chicago, a massive, brilliant fireball lit up the southern horizon. A low, rolling rumble echoed across the sky like distant thunder as Marcus Valenti’s primary weapons depot and central financial vault—located beneath his luxury hotel—exploded into a towering plume of smoke and fire.
Marcus turned around in horror, watching the sky burn red over his empire. "My... my vault!" he screamed, his face turning gray.
"That was Phase One," Adrien said coldly.
Before Marcus or his mercenaries could recover from the shock, the dark canvas covers on the rear of the lead and trailing Moretti SUVs blew open.
Eight heavy tactical operators from the elite Moretti Vanguard—men equipped with night-vision goggles and heavy suppression rifles—rose from the vehicle beds.
POP-POP-POP-POP-POP!
A synchronized chorus of suppressed gunfire cut through the rain.
Within four seconds, all six of Marcus’s personal bodyguards dropped to the steel deck of the bridge, their weapons clattering uselessly against the wet metal.
Marcus gasped, stumbling backward, tripping over his own boots, falling onto his back in the middle of the roadway. He scrambled backward like a crab, clutching his silver revolver with white knuckles, aiming it blindly at Adrien.
"Stay back! Stay back!" Marcus shrieked, his voice cracking into a high, pathetic squeal.
Adrien walked forward slowly, his heavy leather boots making steady, measured thuds against the bridge deck. He didn't rush. He didn't raise his hands. He simply closed the distance until he was standing directly over the fallen Mafia boss.
"Please... Adrien!" Marcus begged, tears mixing with the rainwater on his face. "We can make a deal! I'll give you the docks! I'll give you forty percent of my eastern shipping routes! Just let me walk away!"
Adrien reached down, grabbed the barrel of Marcus’s silver revolver with his bare hand, snatched it out of his trembling grip, and tossed it casually over the railing into the churning dark river below.
"You gave my children three weeks of torment, Marcus," Adrien said quietly, pulling his own Sig Sauer from his holster. "I am going to give you three seconds of peace."
CLICK.
Marcus’s eyes widened in ultimate terror. "No—!"
BANG.
A single gunshot cracked through the night, swallowed instantly by the roaring river and the thunder of the storm.
Marcus Valenti slumped motionless against the cold steel railing of the bridge.
Adrien stood over his fallen rival for a long moment, watching the dark liquid pool around the man's expensive coat before being washed away by the rain.
He holstered his weapon, turned on his heel, and walked back toward his SUV.
May you like
Gabe held the rear door open, looking at his Don with deep, unyielding reverence. "The bridge is clear, Boss. The Valenti lieutenants across the city are already surrendering to our captains. The war is over."
"Clean up the deck," Adrien ordered, sliding into the warm leather interior of the vehicle. "And drive us home. I promised Sophie she would see the sun when she woke up."
