Chapter 8 - The Fall of the Viper
By 4:00 AM, the storm had passed, leaving New York cold and quiet. Gabriel didn't wait for Marcone to launch another attack. He took ten of his elite men and struck the Marcone penthouse in Tribeca before the rival boss could even receive the news of his failed compound breach.
The mahogany doors of the penthouse were blown off their hinges. Marcone’s personal guards were neutralized before they could clear their holsters.
Gabriel walked into the lavish living room, his boots tracking mud over the white fur rugs. Donny Marcone was sitting on his Italian leather sofa, a glass of scotch shaking in his hand, surrounded by four of Gabriel’s enforcers.
"Gabriel... listen to me," Marcone stammered, his face pale under the designer lighting. "It was business. Just business. The Valettis pushed me into it. We can make a deal. Fifty-fifty on the port revenues."
The SentenceGabriel walked over to the sofa, looking down at the man who had ordered a pillow to be pressed over his six-year-old son’s face. He didn't pull his gun. He simply leaned in close, his voice a freezing whisper that filled the entire penthouse.
"You sent men into a pediatric ward, Donny," Gabriel said. "You targeted an innocent child because you couldn't beat his father in the streets. You broke the only rule that keeps us from being animals."
"Gabriel, please—"
"Vincent," Gabriel said, turning his back. "Throw him out the window."
"No! Gabriel! No!" Marcone shrieked as Marco and Vincent grabbed him by his designer suit jacket, dragging him kicking and screaming toward the floor-to-ceiling glass terrace.
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With a single, violent shove, the glass shattered, and Donny Marcone plunged twenty stories into the dark streets below.
The war was over. The city was silent again.
