Chapter 7 - Assault on the Citadel
The mountain road was a blur of torrential rain and flashing red taillights as three black armored SUVs tore through the night, their engines screaming at maximum RPM.
Inside the lead vehicle, Alessio sat in complete silence, checking the action on his automatic rifle. His heart hammered against his ribs—not with fear for his own life, but with a sickening dread he hadn't felt since he was a boy.
By the time they reached the compound, the heavy iron gates had been blown off their hinges by explosive charges. Smoke poured from the ground floor, and the courtyard was littered with shell casings.
“Spread out! Kill anyone not wearing a Fontana badge!” Marco shouted as the vehicles skidded to a halt.
Alessio was the first out of the car. He moved through the smoke like a predator, his rifle raised. Two of Moretti’s gunmen emerged from the ruined lobby; Alessio dropped them both with precise, lethal bursts before they could even raise their weapons.
He charged up the stone staircase toward the secondary level where the safe rooms were located. The corridor was silent, save for the crackle of burning drywall and the smell of cordite.
Near the end of the hall, the reinforced door to the panic room was scorched, showing deep marks from high-explosive charges. Lying on the floor near the threshold was Don Moretti himself, wearing a tactical vest, holding a detonator in his hand.
Moretti looked up, coughing blood, his face pale under the emergency lights. “Fontana...” he wheezed, a cruel smirk on his bleeding lips. “You... you came yourself... for a servant’s bastard?”
Alessio walked up to him, his heavy boots echoing on the concrete. He didn't answer. He simply aimed his sidearm and shot Moretti through the heart, ending the syndicate war with a single pull of the trigger.
Alessio kicked the detonator away and rushed to the sealed door. He slammed his hand against the biometric scanner. “Greta! Nina! It’s me! It’s Alessio!”
For three agonizing seconds, nothing happened. Then, with a heavy pneumatic hiss, the steel door unlocked and slowly swung open.
Inside, huddled in the corner beneath a steel desk, was Greta, holding a heavy iron bar, her eyes wide with terror. And behind her, stepping out into the light, was Nina.
She was covered in dust, her hair messy, but her eyes were clear and calm. She looked at Alessio, then looked down at his blood-stained sleeve, and finally met his eyes.
“You came,” Nina whispered.
May you like
Alessio dropped his rifle to the floor, fell to his knees, and pulled the small girl into a tight, fierce embrace. For the first time in his adult life, the mob boss of the Fontana empire felt his eyes sting with tears.
“I promised I would protect you,” Alessio choked out, burying his face in her shoulder. “I always keep my promises.”
