Chapter 7 - THE FALL OF CASTELLANO
By midnight, the storm had passed. A crisp, cool wind blew across Chicago, clearing away the smoke of battle.
Down in the city's harbor district, Don Victor Castellano was pacing nervously inside his penthouse suite overlooking the lake. His phone had been silent for four hours.
"Where are they?!" Victor shouted at his lieutenant. "Why hasn't David Miller called?!"
"Boss... something went wrong," the lieutenant stammered, holding a tablet screen. "The Moretti estate didn't fall. And... and we just lost signal from our security grid in the docks."
The penthouse doors blew open with an explosive force.
BOOM!
Silana Moretti walked into the luxurious apartment, flanked by fifty heavily armed men. Behind him walked the federal prosecutor for the Northern District of Illinois, along with twenty federal agents in tactical vests.
Victor Castellano went pale as death, backing up against his glass window. "Silana... what is this?!"
Silana walked forward slowly, tossing a heavy leather binder onto the glass coffee table.
"This is thirty years of illegal arms distribution, murder, and political corruption records, Victor," Silana said smoothly, his hands resting in his trouser pockets. "All provided by your former internal accountant... and your traitorous capo, Lorenzo."
The federal prosecutor stepped forward, pulling out a set of steel handcuffs. "Victor Castellano, you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder, racketeering, and domestic terrorism."
Victor stared at Silana in utter disbelief. "You... you went to the feds?! The mob boss of Chicago went to the law?!"
Silana smiled—a dark, cold, victorious smile.
"I am a businessman who protects his family, Victor," Silana said quietly, leaning in close to the disgraced Don. "You used violence against women and children. I used the entire weight of the world to crush you. Enjoy your life in a supermax facility."
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As the federal agents shoved Victor Castellano down onto his knees and slapped the handcuffs onto his wrists, Silana turned his back on his oldest enemy and walked out into the cool night air.
The war that had lasted for three long years was finally, completely over.
