Chapter 8 - The Siege of Long Island
At two o'clock in the morning, a blizzard raged over Long Island.
The grand, iron-gated estate of Antonio Romano was lit up like a fortress. Over thirty heavily armed Romano soldiers patrolled the snow-covered grounds, equipped with night-vision gear and assault rifles. Inside the grand study, Antonio Romano and Uncle Vince sat behind a bulletproof glass window, watching the storm, nervously sipping brandy.
"Did your men confirm the kill?" Antonio asked, his voice edgy.
"The team hasn't checked in yet," Vince said, pacing back and forth, wiping sweat from his forehead. "But they had heavy firepower. They smashed the house. Even if they didn't kill Dominic, taking the girl will force him to surrender by morning."
Suddenly, the lights across the entire twenty-acre estate flickered and went black.
"What the hell?!" Antonio jumped up, grabbing his phone. "Security post! Report!"
Nothing came through the speaker except static.
Outside in the blinding white snow, silent shadows moved through the trees.
Dominic Moretti walked through the front gates of the Romano estate. He wasn't hiding. He was wearing a long black tactical coat, holding an assault rifle, flanked by fifty of his most lethal, loyal enforcers, including Marco.
BOOM!
A thermal charge exploded on the estate's heavy oak front doors, shattering them into thousand splinters!
Dominic stepped through the smoking entrance.
"FIRE!" a Romano captain screamed from the grand balcony above!
A hail of bullets tore through the foyer!
Dominic ducked behind a heavy marble pillar, firing his rifle upward with lethal precision!
TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
Two Romano snipers fell from the balcony, crashing onto the marble floor below!
"ADVANCE!" Marco shouted, leading the Moretti soldiers into the grand hall!
What followed was a brutal, relentless forty-minute battle through the corridors of the estate. Dominic moved like an unstoppable force of nature, driven by the memory of Sophia’s death and the image of his daughter crying in the panic room. Every door Vince’s men tried to lock, Dominic kicked open. Every soldier who stood in his way was eliminated without hesitation.
By three in the morning, the gunfire died down.
The grand study at the end of the second-floor hallway was silent.
The heavy mahogany doors were blown off their hinges.
Dominic stepped into the room, his black coat dusted with snow and gunpowder.
Inside, cornered against the massive glass window overlooking the frozen garden, stood Antonio Romano and Uncle Vince.
Antonio was bleeding from a bullet graze on his shoulder, his hands shaking as he held a revolver pointed at Dominic. Vince was cowering behind Antonio, looking pale, sweating profusely, looking like a cornered rat.
"Dominic..." Vince choked out, holding his hands up in terror. "Dominic, please! I'm your uncle! I'm your father's brother! We're blood!"
Dominic walked toward them slowly, his heavy boots crunching on the shattered glass covering the rug.
"Blood?" Dominic asked, his voice dangerously low. "You forgot about blood four years ago when you helped my mother drive Sophia away. You forgot about blood when you sent hitmen to murder my three-year-old daughter today."
"It was Antonio's idea!" Vince shrieked, pointing a frantic finger at Romano. "He ordered the hit on the brownstone! I wanted to negotiate!"
"You sniveling coward!" Antonio spat, glaring at Vince, then turned his gun toward Dominic. "Stay back, Moretti! The Commission will destroy you for this! You can't execute the head of a founding family!"
Dominic didn't even blink.
BANG!
A single shot echoed through the room.
Antonio Romano froze, staring at Dominic in shock, before his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed dead onto the floor.
It wasn't Dominic who had fired.
Standing in the doorway behind Dominic was Don Carmine Lucchese, holding a smoking pearl-handled revolver, flanked by six Commission enforcers.
Dominic turned slowly, looking at the old don.
Don Carmine stepped into the room, looking down at Antonio Romano’s body with a heavy sigh, then looked at Vince, who was weeping on his knees.
"Antonio broke the ancient code," Don Carmine said quietly, his gravelly voice filled with absolute authority. "He targeted a child. He authorized an attack on an innocent toddler. The Commission voted two hours ago, Dominic. Antonio Romano’s death sentence was sanctioned."
Don Carmine looked at Vince Moretti. "And as for this trash..."
Vince grabbed Dominic’s pants leg, weeping hysterically. "Dominic! Please! Nephew! Spare me! Send me away to Italy! I’ll never come back! Please!"
Dominic looked down at his uncle with profound disgust. He didn't even raise his gun.
"Marco," Dominic said smoothly. "Take my uncle to the docks. Put him on a cargo ship to South America. Strip him of every penny, every title, and every name. If he ever steps foot on North American soil again, shoot him on sight."
"No! No! Please! Not poverty!" Vince screamed as Marco and two heavy guards dragged him out of the room, his pathetic wails fading down the quiet corridor.
Don Carmine walked over to Dominic, placing a heavy, warm hand on his shoulder.
"The war is over, Dominic," Carmine said softly. "The Romano family will be absorbed into your territory. The Commission recognizes you as the undisputed Don of New York."
Dominic looked out the shattered window at the quiet, snow-covered garden.
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"I don't care about being Don, Carmine," Dominic said softly. "I just want to go home to my daughter."
Carmine smiled warmly, nodding slowly. "Go home, Dominic. You've earned it."
