Chapter 8 - Into the Storm
Though Julian was captured, the viper’s nest he had built with the Russo syndicate was far from destroyed.
The following morning at 4:00 AM, satellite communications at the compound intercepted an emergency broadcast from New York.
Realizing Julian had failed, Viktor Russo—the ruthless head of the rival family—had mobilized forty heavily armed mercenaries to launch a final, desperate assault on the Moretti docks and corporate headquarters in Manhattan, intent on burning Rico’s entire empire to the ground before Rico could strike back.
Rico stood in the tactical room of the compound, strapping a heavy bulletproof vest over his dark tactical shirt.
Marco, his shoulder tightly bandaged, stood beside him, checking tactical maps on a digital screen.
"Boss," Marco said grimly. "Russo is at the Brooklyn shipping yard right now. He’s wired the main fuel tanks to detonate. If those tanks explode, half the shipping district goes up, and our entire legitimate shipping fleet is destroyed."
"I'm going down there," Rico said, slapping a fresh magazine into his sidearm. "I finish this today."
I stepped into the tactical room, holding a warm coat over my arm. I looked at Rico—his eyes filled with cold, focused determination.
"You're going into a war zone," I whispered, stepping up to him.
Rico looked at me, his expression softening instantly. He reached out, taking my face in his large, warm hands. "I have to end this, Clara. If I don't destroy Russo today, he will keep coming for you and Leo for the rest of our lives. I have to build a world where my son doesn't have to look over his shoulder."
"Then promise me one thing," I said, leaning up to press my forehead against his chest. "Promise me you come home. Leo and I will be waiting at the estate."
Rico smiled softly, leaning down to press a deep, tender kiss to my lips. "I promise."
Twenty minutes later, two black helicopters lifted off from the compound helipad, roaring south toward the stormy skies over New York City.
I spent the next four hours sitting in the library of the compound, holding Leo on my lap, reading storybooks while keeping one eye on the tactical radio sitting on the table.
At 9:30 AM, the radio crackled to life with static.
“Alpha-One to Base... fuel tanks secured... Russo detail neutralized... Repeat, Russo detail neutralized.”
Marco’s voice echoed through the speaker: “Rico is clear. Target eliminated. Returning home.”
I let out a loud, breathless laugh, burying my face in Leo’s soft hair. "He did it, Leo. Daddy did it!"
Leo clapped his small hands, giggling happily. "Daddy come home!"
Four hours later, the heavy black SUV pulled up to the front steps of the Westchester mansion, where we had returned under full police escort.
The front doors opened.
Rico stepped out. His suit was dusty, his face tired, but his eyes were brighter than I had ever seen them.
He walked up the marble steps where Leo and I stood waiting.
May you like
Without saying a word, Rico lifted Leo into his left arm, pulled me tightly into his right arm, and held us both against his chest under the bright, warm afternoon sun.
The dark clouds that had hung over the Moretti family for six months had finally vanished.
