Chapter 8 - The Wrath of the Mob Boss
What followed on the security monitors was a masterclass in absolute, lethal violence.
Victor didn't take cover. He didn't flinch.
Dressed in his long black trench coat, holding a pair of heavy custom pistols, he moved through the foyer like a god of death. Every shot he fired found its target. One by one, Julian’s hitmen dropped to the marble floor like falling dominoes.
Dante and the remaining house security flanked from the side staircases, cutting off every escape route.
Within three minutes, eleven hitmen were dead or dying on the shattered remains of the foyer floor.
Julian Montigue dropped his shotgun, falling to his knees in the middle of the room, covered in his men's blood, screaming in terror as Victor walked toward him.
Victor grabbed Julian by his collar, lifting him six feet off the ground and slamming his body into the hood of the wrecked SUV.
"Where is my family?" Victor’s voice roared through the intercom, echoing into the safe room like thunder.
"They're... they're upstairs! In the bunker! I couldn't get in! I swear I couldn't get in!" Julian shrieked, wetting himself in terror.
Victor stared down at the young man who had dared to bring violence into the home where his son slept.
Without a word, Victor struck Julian across the temple with the heavy steel butt of his pistol, knocking him unconscious instantly.
"Dante," Victor growled, wiping blood off his cheek with the back of his leather glove.
"Boss?"
"Take him to the harbor. Dump him on a cargo ship bound for Siberia. If he ever wakes up, tell him his sister says hello."
"Understood."
Five minutes later, the electronic lock on the safe room door chimed.
The heavy steel door swung open.
Victor stood in the doorway. His suit was torn, his coat stained with gunsmoke and blood, but his eyes were frantically scanning the room until they landed on Lily and Ethan sitting in the corner.
"Victor!" Lily cried out.
She didn't care about the blood. She didn't care about the danger. She scrambled to her feet and threw herself into his arms, holding Ethan between them.
Victor wrapped his massive arms around both of them, pulling them tight against his chest, burying his face in Lily’s neck, his chest breathing in heavy, ragged hitches.
"Are you hurt?" Victor asked, his voice shaking with a rare, terrifying vulnerability. "Did they touch you? Did they lay a hand on my boy?"
"No," Lily wept, clinging to his coat. "We're safe. We're okay, Victor... we're okay."
May you like
Victor kissed the top of Lily’s head, holding her so tightly she could feel the thunderous pounding of his heart against her cheek.
"It's over," Victor swore into her hair, his voice filled with an absolute, undeniable authority. "I am burning the Montigue name off the face of this earth tomorrow. No one will ever threaten my home again."
