Chapter 5 - Midnight at the Gates
The night was pitch black, a thick blanket of clouds blocking out the moon and stars. The wind howled through the Hudson Valley, rattling the branches of the ancient oak tree.
At 11:55 PM, Alessandro sat in the darkness of his master bedroom. He had stripped off his suit jacket, wearing only a black tactical vest over his dark shirt. In his hands, he held a customized assault rifle, its silencer attached and ready.
Beside him stood Marco, similarly armed.
"The security feeds are looping," Marco whispered, looking at a small handheld monitor. "Carlo just initiated the maintenance cycle for the west wing cameras. He’s masking the entry."
Alessandro didn't show any emotion, but inside, a part of him felt a profound, heavy sadness. Carlo had been his father's trusted friend. To see him throw away fifteen years of loyalty for a betrayal was a bitter pill to swallow.
"Let's go," Alessandro whispered.
They slipped down the grand staircase, moving like ghosts through the darkened corridors of the mansion. When they reached the west wing, they took up positions behind the heavy marble pillars overlooking the side entrance.
Through the glass panes of the door, Alessandro watched a shadow approach.
It was Elena. Her body was shaking so violently she could barely insert the key into the deadbolt. She turned the lock, pushed the door open slightly, and then turned and fled back down the hallway toward the servant's staircase, exactly as Alessandro had instructed her.
A minute passed in absolute silence.
Then, the door pushed open.
Six men in black tactical gear slipped into the hallway, moving with military precision. They carried suppressed submachine guns, their faces covered in balaclavas.
They had no idea they were walking into a meat grinder.
"Now," Alessandro whispered.
The darkness of the hallway exploded into a deadly, silenced crossfire. Alessandro and Marco fired in perfect synchronization, their bullets tearing through the lead intruders before they could even raise their weapons.
The hitmen panicked, firing blindly into the shadows, but they had no cover. The marble pillars protected Alessandro and Marco completely. Within forty seconds, five of the intruders lay dead on the Persian rug, their blood pooling in the dark.
The sixth man, wounded in the leg, tried to crawl back toward the open door.
Alessandro stepped out of the shadows, his heavy boot pinning the man’s hand to the floor. He pointed his rifle directly at the man's face.
"Who sent you?" Alessandro demanded, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper.
The man groaned, spitting blood. "Go... go to hell, Moretti."
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"I’ll see you there," Alessandro said, and pulled the trigger.
He stood up, looking at the carnage. "Marco, clean this up. I'm going to find Carlo."
