Chapter 8 - The Covenant of Ravens
By 3:00 AM, the blizzard had reached its peak, completely paralyzing the city of Chicago. But the weather could not slow down the wrath of the Ravenna family.
Luca’s tactical caravan roared down Wacker Drive, clearing the snow drifts with heavy-duty steel plows attached to the front of their SUVs. They arrived at the luxury high-rise where Don Marcello Romano was preparing his escape.
Luca didn't waste time with stealth. He ordered his men to detonate a small EMP charge at the base of the building, instantly knocking out the power, the security cameras, and the elevators.
Wearing thermal goggles and carrying heavy assault weapons, Luca and his elite inner circle breached the penthouse suite on the 45th floor.
The heavy glass doors shattered inward. Romano’s remaining bodyguards fired blindly into the dark, but they were no match for the synchronized, lethal efficiency of the Ravenna wolves. Within minutes, the penthouse was silent, save for the sound of the wind howling through the broken glass windows.
Don Marcello Romano stood near his desk, a heavy briefcase filled with bearer bonds in one hand and a gold-plated pistol in the other, his face pale with terror as the red laser sights of Luca’s men painted his chest.
Luca stepped out from the shadows, his cashmere coat dusted with snow. He looked like an angel of death.
"Luca," Marcello stammered, backing away until his spine hit the floor-to-ceiling glass window overlooking the frozen Chicago River. "We can make a deal. Half the shipping lines. Millions in cash. It was Matteo's idea! He’s the one who wanted your bloodline wiped out!"
"Matteo is a ghost," Luca said smoothly, pulling a satellite phone from his pocket. He tossed it onto the desk. "Look at the screen, Marcello."
Marcello glanced down. The screen showed a live feed of a beautiful villa in Sicily, completely engulfed in roaring flames. Luca's European factions had already executed the betrayal contract. Matteo’s reign of deceit had ended in ashes.
"Now it’s your turn," Luca said.
"If you kill me, the Romano commission will come for you!" Marcello threatened, his voice cracking with desperation.
"There is no Romano commission left," Luca replied coldly. "Dominic took care of your captains while we were on our way here. Your empire is gone, Marcello. You made the fatal mistake of letting your hands touch my family."
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Before Marcello could raise his gold-plated gun, Luca fired a single, precise shot. The round pierced the glass behind Marcello, shattering the structural integrity of the window. The immense wind pressure from the blizzard sucked Marcello backward, sending him plunging forty stories down into the dark, icy abyss of the Chicago winter.
Luca lowered his weapon. The war was won. The city belonged to him completely—but more importantly, his family was finally safe.
