Chapter 8 - Reclaiming What Was Lost
The doors of the private elevator burst open, revealing four armed men in tactical gear. I stepped out from behind the pillar, suppressed pistol raised, and fired four quick, lethal shots before they could even raise their weapons. They dropped to the floor instantly.
Behind them stepped Matteo Bellini, flanked by my cousin Dominic. Matteo held an assault rifle, a cold, triumphant sneer on his scarred face.
“Vincent Moretti,” Matteo sneered, stepping over the bodies of his fallen soldiers. “The King of New York, reduced to playing nanny in a high-rise. How the mighty have fallen.”
“Dominic,” I said, ignoring Matteo and staring directly at my cousin. “You traded your family for scraps?”
May you like
Dominic looked away, his jaw tight. “You were weak, Vincent! You let your ex-wife's soft-hearted nonsense ruin the business! We could have owned the whole East Coast if you hadn't stopped the weapons trade!”
“I stopped it to protect our family’s legacy,” I said coldly. “And now, you die for breaking it.”
