Chapter 8 - The Fall of DeLuca Dominion
Blinding blue and red strobe lights cut through the fog as searchlights from the helicopters pinned Dominic DeLuca and his men against the concrete gravel.
"FEDERAL AGENTS! DROP YOUR WEAPONS IMMEDIATELY!" a booming megaphone shouted from the lead chopper as it hovered thirty feet above the lot.
From the wooded perimeter surrounding the storage facility, dozens of heavily armed FBI Hostage Rescue Team officers burst from the trees, laser sights pointing directly at the chests of Dominic’s eight security men.
"DOWN ON THE GROUND! NOW! HANDS ON YOUR HEADS!"
Dominic’s gunmen instantly realized they were utterly outmatched. They dropped their rifles onto the gravel, raising their hands and dropping to their knees.
Nathan Cross let out a whimpering gasp, dropping his leather briefcase into the mud and raising his trembling hands high into the air.
Dominic stood frozen, his gold-topped stick slipping from his gloved fingers into the gravel. "What... what is this?!"
From behind the lead FBI tactical vehicle, a tall woman in a sharp navy suit walked forward, flanked by four federal agents.
District Attorney Victoria Cross—Nathan Cross's estranged elder sister and the chief federal prosecutor for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania—stepped into the light.
"Dominic DeLuca," Victoria announced, pulling a thick warrant from her coat. "You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder, federal racketeering, tax evasion, and the 1998 homicide of Lucia DeLuca."
Dominic turned wildly to look at Vincent. "You... you called the feds?!"
Vincent stepped forward, taking the federal deposition envelope from Leo’s hand and handing it directly to DA Victoria Cross.
"I didn't call them, Dominic," Vincent said calmly. "My mother did. Twenty-eight years ago."
Victoria Cross accepted the envelope, opening it to inspect the original sealed federal documents inside. A tight, satisfied smile touched her lips. "This is the master file we've been hunting for three decades. Combined with the digital wiretaps Mr. Vance provided from your corporate office three hours ago, you’re going to spend the rest of your natural life in a supermax federal prison."
Federal agents swarmed forward, pushing Dominic DeLuca down onto his knees and snapping heavy steel handcuffs around his wrists.
The old mob boss glared up at Vincent, his face purple with rage and disbelief. "You destroyed your own family, Vincent! You destroyed everything we built!"
Vincent looked down at his uncle with absolute, cold indifference.
"You were never my family, Dominic," Vincent said softly. "My family died in 1998. You were just a cancer running the house."
As the federal agents loaded Dominic and his men into the armored transport vans, Nathan Cross pleaded with Vincent from the mud. "Vincent! Please! I was forced into this! Dominic threatened my family!"
Vincent didn't even look at his former attorney as the agents dragged him away into the night.
Leo Vance walked up beside Vincent, placing a heavy, warm hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Your mother would be proud of you, kid. You finally finished her work."
May you like
Vincent looked back at the open storage bay, where Claire was carefully lifting the framed photograph of Lucia DeLuca and holding it against her coat.
"No, Leo," Vincent said softly, his dark eyes locking onto Claire. "We're just getting started."
