Chapter 5 - Standing in the Ruins
The descent was pure chaos.
The chair crashed down the heavy marble steps, bouncing violently, metal screaming against stone. I braced my arms, keeping my center of gravity low, shooting as I flew down the stairs.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Two of Alvarez’s bodyguards dropped before the chair hit the bottom landing with a bone-shattering crash.
The impact threw me out of the seat.
I hit the polished marble floor hard, sliding five feet through broken glass and spent shell casings, stopping right near the base of the shattered fountain.
My right gun was knocked from my hand, rolling away across the floor.
Alvarez turned, a cruel smile lighting up his face as he stepped toward me, raising his chrome revolver directly at my forehead.
"End of the line, Moretti," Alvarez sneered, pointing the gun at my head from six feet away. "You should have stayed in your chair."
I lay on my back in the pool of water leaking from the fountain.
My left hand still gripped my second Glock, hidden beneath my body.
I looked up into Alvarez’s eyes.
"You're right, Hector," I whispered. "I shouldn't have stayed in my chair."
I focused every drop of my consciousness into my legs. I didn't try to stand—I knew my muscles weren't ready.
Instead, I used my right leg—the leg Emily had spent three weeks bringing back from the dead—and kicked out with all the power in my body.
My heavy leather boot struck Alvarez directly in the side of his knee joint.
CRACK!
The sound of his knee exploding was louder than a gunshot.
Alvarez screamed in agony, his leg bending backward at a grotesque angle as he collapsed onto the marble floor beside me, dropping his gun.
I didn't waste a second. I rolled over, pinned his chest with my left elbow, and pressed the cold barrel of my Glock directly against his temple.
"The cartel is finished in my city, Hector," I hissed into his ear.
Alvarez panted, blood leaking from his mouth, his eyes wide with pure, unadulterated terror. "Julian... please... we can make a deal..."
"The deal was closed six years ago," I said.
I pulled the trigger.
Silence fell over the house.
The remaining mercenaries, seeing their boss dead, fled into the night, pursued by the surviving members of my security team.
Five minutes later, the heavy iron door of the panic room opened.
Garrett Boone walked out first, his gun ready, followed closely by Maria and Emily.
When they stepped into the foyer, they saw a scene of total devastation. Smoke filled the air, marble pillars were pockmarked with bullet holes, and bodies lay scattered across the floor.
And in the center of it all sat Julian Moretti.
I was leaning against the edge of the shattered fountain, covered in soot, water, and blood.
Emily ran toward me. She didn't care about the dead men or the smell of gunpowder. She dropped to her knees beside me in the puddle of water, her arms wrapping tightly around my neck.
"You're okay," she sobbed into my shoulder. "You're okay."
I held the little girl close, my hand resting protectively on her back.
I looked up at Garrett, who was standing ten feet away, staring at me as if he were seeing a ghost.
"Garrett," I commanded quietly. "Clean this up. Call the mayor. Tell him the Alvarez problem has been permanently resolved."
"Yes, Boss," Garrett whispered, bowing his head in absolute respect.
May you like
I looked down at Emily, then at my right foot, which was resting firmly against the marble floor.
"Emily," I murmured, my voice soft and clear. "Tomorrow... we go back to work."
