Chapter 15 - The Ruins of Selinunte
The ancient ruins of Selinunte sat on a high cliff overlooking the Mediterranean, the massive, crumbling limestone columns of ancient Greek temples casting long, ghostly shadows under the light of a full Sicilian moon. The wind blew fiercely off the sea, howling through the stone archways like the voices of the dead.
At 11:00 p.m., two black Alfa Romeos pulled up to the perimeter of the archaeological site.
Marco stepped out of the lead vehicle, his hand resting on the lapel of his coat, concealing his custom-grade Beretta. He walked around to the passenger side, helping Lena out. She was wearing a dark trench coat, her silver-tipped cane clicking softly against the ancient stone path.
Enzo and a team of four elite snipers had already taken positions in the surrounding olive groves, their thermal scopes scanning the ruins for any hidden threats.
"Stay close to me, Lena," Marco whispered, his eyes darting across the shadows.
"I’m right here, Marco," she replied, her voice calm and resolute.
They walked deep into the ruins, entering the massive courtyard of Temple C. The towering columns rose eighty feet into the night sky, their white marble glowing under the moonlight.
Standing in the center of the temple ruins, illuminated by a single portable halogen light, was Don Caprese. He was an older man, his face weathered and scarred, wearing a heavy leather jacket. He stood alone, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. But Marco knew his men were hiding in the shadows of the fallen blocks nearby.
"You came," Caprese said, his voice echoing off the ancient stone. "And you brought the brave little bird who took the bullets."
"Cut the talk, Caprese," Marco said, stopping ten paces away. "Where is the journal?"
Caprese pulled a heavy, leather-bound book from his pocket. The edges of the leather were charred and blackened by fire, but the gold embossed Duca crest on the cover was still visible.
"My father saved this from the fire," Caprese said, holding it up. "He knew that one day, the Duca family would try to wipe us out. This is my insurance policy."
"You have no insurance policy left, Caprese," Lena spoke up, her voice clear and strong in the night wind. "Your bank accounts are frozen. Your political allies are in jail. Your mercenaries have already abandoned you. You are holding a book of dead names, trying to fight a war that ended thirty years ago."
Caprese’s eyes flashed with a sudden, desperate rage. "Shut up, you American whore! You don't know anything about Sicily! You don't know the blood we spilled to survive!"
"I know about blood," Lena replied, taking a step forward, her cane planted firmly on the stone. "I took five bullets to save my husband's life. I survived the dark. But you... you are already dead. You just haven't realized it yet."
Caprese let out a savage growl and reached into his jacket.
Before he could draw his weapon, a red laser dot appeared directly on his forehead. Then another appeared on his chest.
"I wouldn't do that, Caprese," Marco said, his voice dropping into a register of terrifying calmness. "My snipers have been tracking your men since we arrived. Your three remaining guards are currently disarmed and tied up in the olive groves. You are completely alone."
Caprese froze, his hand still inside his jacket. He looked up at the red dot on his forehead, his face pale with the realization of his complete defeat.
"Give me the journal," Marco commanded, extending his hand. "And I will let you live. You will take what's left of your personal funds and you will leave Italy. If I ever see your face in Sicily again, I will personally bury you in these ruins."
Caprese stared at Marco, his chest rising and falling with heavy, ragged breaths. For a long moment, the only sound was the howling of the wind.
Slowly, Caprese withdrew his hand from his jacket, holding only the leather journal. He tossed it onto the stone path at Marco’s feet.
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"Your father was a monster, Marco," Caprese whispered, his voice trembling. "And you are just like him."
"No," Marco said, picking up the journal and tucking it into his coat. "My father died in the dark. I am walking in the light."
