Chapter 7 - The Ambush
"They're here," Dr. Bianchi said, his face draining of color.
"Stay here," Alessandro ordered, his voice dropping into the cold, commanding tone of a mafia boss at war. He drew his SIG Sauer from its holster, checked the magazine with a practiced click, and strode out of the guest suite, pulling the heavy oak doors shut behind him.
Down in the main courtyard, the heavy wrought-iron security gates had been blasted open, sending twisted shards of metal across the cobblestone driveway. Three black SUVs roared through the breach, their high-beams cutting blinding paths through the darkness as armed men spilled out, wearing tactical gear and bearing the insignia of Marcus Vance's syndicate.
They thought they were walking into a compromised estate, led by insider information provided by Dante Vance.
They didn't know that Alessandro had anticipated the betrayal twenty minutes before they even crossed the city line.
From the second-floor balcony overlooking the courtyard, Alessandro raised his hand and gave a sharp, downward chop.
Instantly, the courtyard erupted.
Floodlights blazed on from every corner of the estate roof, turning the night into blinding daylight. From the perimeter walls and upper windows, Moretti guards laid down a withering, coordinated crossfire that pinned Marcus's men against their vehicles before they could even fire a single shot.
Glass shattered, tires blew out with loud pops, and within ninety seconds, the element of complete surprise had turned into a slaughter for the invading syndicate forces.
Marcus Vance, realizing he had walked straight into an execution trap, tried to scramble back toward the breached gate, but a heavy-booted foot stepped down firmly on his shoulder, pinning him face-down into the cold gravel.
Alessandro walked down the grand marble staircase, his footsteps echoing rhythmically in the empty foyer, and stepped out into the crisp night air.
He walked slowly toward the center of the courtyard, where Marcus was held down by two of Alessandro’s top enforcers.
"Dante said you were soft, Alessandro!" Marcus yelled, spitting blood onto the gravel as he struggled against the weight on his back. "He said your empire was ripe for the taking!"
Alessandro stopped inches from his rival. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
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"Dante is an accountant who forgot his place," Alessandro said smoothly. "And you, Marcus, are a fool for trusting a traitor's numbers."
Alessandro turned to Luca, who stood nearby with a tablet in hand. "Secure the survivors. Dump the rest outside Marcus's primary warehouse downtown as a message. And make sure Dante has a front-row seat to the cleanup."
