Chapter 8 - The Blood on the Limestone
“Kill them all!” Don Carmine roared, drawing a golden pistol from his coat.
The quarry erupted into a savage, deafening crossfire. The snipers from the upper ridges opened fire, their high-caliber rounds tearing through the Lucchese vehicles, shattering glass and metal. Alessandro grabbed Isabella by her collar, dragging her behind the heavy steel frame of an old excavator as bullets chipped away at the stone beside them.
Marco moved like a demon, directing the Moretti soldiers as they pushed the enemy deeper into the open pit. Daniel Vance tried to break toward the entrance road, using his specialized tactical training to evade the sniper fire, but Alessandro caught his movement through the fog.
Leaving Isabella in the safety of the iron alcove, Alessandro drew his custom semi-automatic pistol, stepping out into the open warfare. He tracked Vance through the rain, firing three precise shots that struck the dirt at the former agent’s feet, forcing him to turn and face him.
“You came into my house at three in the morning, Vance!” Alessandro shouted over the gunfire. “You woke up my family! You frightened a child!”
Vance leveled his rifle, but Alessandro was faster. A single, perfectly placed round struck Vance squarely in the shoulder, sending his weapon flying into the mud. Before Vance could recover, Alessandro was on him, delivering a devastating blow with the butt of his gun that sent the man crashing into the wet limestone, unconscious.
On the other side of the crater, Don Carmine was attempting to crawl back into his armored limousine, his legs bleeding from a shrapnel wound. Alessandro walked over slowly, his trench coat soaked with blood and rain, his shadow looming over the terrified old boss.
“Alessandro… please,” Carmine whimpered, his hands covered in mud. “We can divide the territory. New York will pull back. I’ll give you the Romano family assets—”
“The Romanos are already family,” Alessandro said coldly.
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He didn't fire. He looked up at Marco, who walked over holding a heavy, locked briefcase recovered from Carmine’s vehicle—the ledger containing the complete financial identities of every corrupted federal official on Carmine’s payroll.
“Give him to the feds, Marco,” Alessandro ordered. “Let him spend the rest of his miserable life in a maximum-security cage knowing he lost everything to a maid’s little girl.”
