Chapter 8 - The Falling of the Guard
For three agonizing seconds, no one moved in the formal dining room.
Dominic, driven by pure survival instinct, ripped his suppressed pistol from his holster and aimed it directly at Luca's chest.
"Die, you bastard!" Dominic screamed.
BANG!
A deafening shot shattered the silence of the room—but it didn't come from Dominic's gun.
Marcus, stepping out from behind the heavy velvet drapes near the fireplace, fired a single, high-caliber round through Dominic's right shoulder. The force of the impact spun Dominic around, knocking his weapon from his hand as he fell backward across the dining table, screaming in pain, shattering crystal wine glasses into a hundred sparkling shards.
Instantly, the double doors of the dining room were kicked open.
The four hired mercenaries in the hallway raised their submachine guns, preparing to breach the room—but they were instantly caught in a lethal crossfire.
Marcus’s veteran guards, positioned behind the reinforced pillars of the grand foyer, opened fire simultaneously. The thunderous roar of automatic weapons echoed through the mansion as heavy plaster rained down from the ceiling.
Within ten seconds, the firefight in the hall was over. The four mercenaries lay disarmed and neutralized on the marble floor, completely overwhelmed by the estate’s superior tactical positioning.
Inside the dining room, chaos reigned.
Frankie "The Hammer" and the two other captains were on their knees, their hands thrown high into the air, screaming for mercy.
"Luca! Please! We didn't know!" Frankie sobbed, pressing his forehead against the carpet. "We swears to God, boss! We didn't know Dominic poisoned you! We thought you were sick!"
Luca walked slowly toward the head of the table. He didn't need his cane. Powered by pure, unadulterated adrenaline and twelve years of righteous fury, his steps were heavy, deliberate, and absolute.
He stood over Dominic Reyes, who was clutching his bleeding shoulder, writhing among the broken glass and spilled red wine on the mahogany table.
Luca pulled the silver Colt .45 from his shoulder holster, the steel gleam reflecting the amber firelight.
"Luca... please..." Dominic gasped, coughing blood, his eyes wide with a terrifying, pathetic desperation. "We were brothers... I built your empire... I kept the money flowing..."
"You stole my life, Dominic," Luca said, his voice completely devoid of mercy. "You made me sit in a dark room while my daughter grew up without a father. You made my people believe I was weak."
"I’ll give it all back!" Dominic wept, reaching out a trembling, blood-stained hand. "The offshore accounts... the Cayman trusts... everything! Just let me live!"
Luca looked down at the snake who had sat at his table for twelve years.
"The trust was always mine, Dominic," Luca whispered. "And so is your sentence."
BANG.
The gunshot echoed once through the grand hall, and then silence fell over the Vanguard Estate.
The heavy, suffocating shadow that had hung over the house for twelve years dissolved into the lingering smoke of gunpowder.
Luca lowered his weapon, standing tall amidst the ruins of the ambush.
Marcus stepped forward, lowering his weapon, looking at his boss with a profound, solemn respect. "The house is secure, boss. The captains in the hall have been disarmed and secured. Dominic’s faction is completely wiped out."
Luca turned his gaze toward Frankie and the remaining captains kneeling on the floor.
"Get up," Luca commanded flatly.
Frankie and the others scrambled to their feet, trembling violently, unable to look Luca in the eye.
"You will return to the city tonight," Luca ordered, his voice carrying the absolute, unquestioned weight of the Capo di Tutti Capi. "You will inform every family, every captain, and every soldier that Luca Costello has returned. If anyone questions my authority, or attempts to challenge my streets, tell them to remember what happened in this room today."
"Yes, boss! Right away, boss!" Frankie stammered, bowing repeatedly as he and the captains backed out of the room, eager to escape the presence of the resurrected king.
When they were gone, Luca turned toward the side door leading to the kitchen corridor.
Elena stepped through the door. She was pale, her breath coming in short gasps from the terrifying roar of the gunshots, but her eyes were clear. She looked at the blood on the table, looked at Dominic's lifeless body, and then looked up at Luca.
Luca lowered his gun, suddenly feeling the immense physical toll of the effort. His knees buckled slightly as the adrenaline began to fade.
Elena rushed forward, stepping over the debris, catching him before he could fall. She wrapped her arms around his waist, supporting his weight against her shoulder.
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"I’m okay," Luca rasped, resting his head against hers, feeling the warmth of her breath against his neck. "It's over, Elena. It's finally over."
"I know," Elena whispered, tears finally spilling over her lashes, a brilliant, radiant smile breaking through her fear. "You did it, Luca. You stood up."
