Chapter 4 - THE SIEGE OF KNOXVILLE
The convoy of three black armored SUVs rolled through the wrought-iron gates of Marcus Vance’s grand estate in the wealthy suburbs of West Knoxville at 11:30 PM.
The storm had followed us east, bringing thick fog and heavy rain that swept across the sprawling, five-acre manicured lawn. Vance’s mansion was a multi-million-dollar stone palace built with money he had stolen from my father and me over a decade of systematic betrayal.
Inside our lead SUV, Elena, Caleb, and Rosie sat safely in the reinforced backseat under the care of Mateo and two heavily armed guards.
"Stay in the vehicle, boys," I said, checking my sidearm one last time. "This won't take long."
Elena reached out, touching my sleeve. "Mason... be careful."
"I am always careful, Elena," I said. "That's why I'm still here."
Viktor and six of my top enforcers stepped out into the rain, weapons drawn. Vance had eight private security guards stationed around his estate—men hired from local private security firms. But when they saw my convoy pull up and recognized the Calloway flag flying on the lead vehicle, five of them laid their weapons on the wet grass and threw their hands in the air.
They were paid guards, not suicide soldiers. They knew who ruled Tennessee.
Viktor breached the front double doors with a hydraulic ram.
The marble grand foyer of Vance’s mansion was brightly lit, glowing with crystal chandeliers and expensive art pieces.
Sitting at a mahogany desk at the top of the sweeping marble staircase was Marcus Vance.
At fifty-eight years old, Vance was a sleek, silver-haired legal shark who had spent his life hiding behind suits, courtrooms, and loopholes. But tonight, he was holding a trembling silver revolver, his face pale as death, his expensive silk tie undone at the collar.
Beside Vance stood Dominic Moretti’s chief lieutenant—a ruthless, scar-faced enforcer named Carlo Rossi.
"Mason!" Vance screamed down the stairs, his voice cracking with terror. "You... you were supposed to be dead at Willow Creek!"
I walked slowly into the center of the marble foyer, my boots leaving wet, dark footprints on his white Italian tile. Viktor and my men fanned out, training their weapons up at the balcony.
"You always were a bad judge of violence, Marcus," I said, my voice echoing off the high ceilings. "My father told me twenty years ago that you were a fox who thought he was a lion."
Carlo Rossi—Moretti's lieutenant—stepped to the railing, pointing a heavy weapon down at me. "Calloway! This territory belongs to Atlanta now! Dominic Moretti has forty men moving into East Tennessee as we speak! You step down, or we wipe your family off the map!"
"My family is already dead, Rossi," I said calmly. "And as for Moretti... check your phone."
Rossi blinked, frowning slightly. His phone vibrated violently in his jacket pocket. He pulled it out with his left hand, answering it.
"Yeah?" Rossi barked.
A panicked voice screamed over the speaker loud enough for the whole room to hear: "Rossi! Calloway's captains just hit our warehouses in Nashville and Memphis simultaneously! They seized all our shipments! Dominic Moretti has been arrested by federal agents at his home in Atlanta! It’s a sweep!"
Rossi’s face turned gray. He dropped the phone.
While Vance and Rossi had been focusing all their attention on trying to murder me at my childhood home in Willow Creek, I had authorized my captains across three states to deploy the encrypted data from Hector's flash drive.
That single drive contained every illegal transaction, wire transfer, and drug shipment route between Vance and Moretti for the last five years. I had leaked the evidence to the Federal Bureau of Investigation forty-five minutes ago.
The Moretti empire in Atlanta was currently crumbling under federal indictments.
Rossi slowly lowered his gun, realizing he was standing on a sinking ship with no lifeboat. He looked at Vance, then back at me.
"I had nothing to do with the kids, Calloway," Rossi stammered, stepping away from Vance. "It was all Vance. He ordered the hit on Hector Ruiz."
"Rossi, you coward!" Vance shrieked, turning his revolver toward Rossi.
BANG.
Viktor fired a single, precision shot from the floor.
The round took Vance’s weapon clean out of his hand, shattering the marble banister beside him. Vance fell to his knees, clutching his bloody wrist, screaming in agony.
I walked up the marble staircase slowly, my heavy steps echoing through the silent mansion.
I stopped at the top of the stairs, looking down at the lawyer who had betrayed my trust, stolen my wealth, and tried to murder three innocent children.
"Please, Mason!" Vance wept, crawling backward across the floor, clutching my pant leg. "I was greedy! Moretti threatened my family! I didn't want to hurt those kids! I’ll give you back every penny! Twenty million dollars in Cayman accounts! It's yours!"
I looked down at him with cold, absolute detachment.
"You sold my childhood home, Marcus," I said quietly. "You hunted three orphans. And you forgot the fundamental rule of the Calloway family."
"What rule?!" Vance sobbed. "What rule?!"
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"We don't negotiate with snakes."
I gestured to Viktor. "Take him to the basement. Call the federal prosecutor. Tell them Marcus Vance is ready to confess to twenty years of syndicate corruption."
