The rain began the moment they stepped out of the Ambrose. It was a cold Chicago drizzle, the kind that smelled of wet asphalt, exhaust fumes, and the bitter autumn lake breeze.

The room erupted into chaos.

Before Silvio’s mercenaries could squeeze their triggers, Marco—who had been standing quietly behind Luciano—flung a heavy silver ice bucket directly into the face of the nearest gunman.

Luciano ducked low, flipping the massive mahogany conference table onto its side with immense strength. Bullets chewed through the wood, sending splinters and paper flying into the air like white confetti.

"Down!" Luciano roared to his loyal Capos.

Drawing his custom dark steel pistol from his shoulder holster, Luciano leaned over the top of the fallen table and fired three rapid shots. The head tactical officer dropped instantly. Marco fired from behind a marble pillar, taking out a second mercenary.

Silvio was already retreating toward the private rear exit behind the boardroom screen.

"Silvio!" Luciano yelled, stepping out from behind cover and firing through the smoke.

The bullet struck Silvio’s shoulder. The old man gasped, dropping his remote, but his remaining bodyguards grabbed him by his arms and dragged him through the escape doorway, slamming the reinforced steel door shut behind them.

The remaining three mercenaries in the room were quickly outmaneuvered and eliminated by Luciano and Marco.

Silence returned to the room, broken only by the smell of spent gunpowder, the hiss of broken sprinkler pipes, and the heavy breathing of men who had barely survived.

Two of the Capos had been hit in the crossfire; Marco immediately began applying pressure to a gunshot wound on Capo Santino’s shoulder.

"Boss!" Marco shouted over the sound of alarm bells ringing through the hotel. "Silvio’s private security has locked down the building! He’s taking his private helicopter from the roof!"

Luciano ejected his empty magazine and slapped a fresh one into his pistol. "He won't make it off the roof."

Luciano charged up the concrete stairwell, taking three steps at a time. His heart hammered against his ribs—not from fear, but from the fiery realization that for thirty years, his entire life had been orchestrated by a monster who wore his father's blood.

He kicked open the heavy metal door leading to the roof.

The wind hit him like a physical wall. Heavy rain whipped across the helipad. The rotors of the sleek black helicopter were already spinning, cutting through the dark storm clouds.

Silvio was being helped into the passenger seat by his chief bodyguard.

"Silvio!" Luciano’s voice cut through the roar of the helicopter blades.

reached the edge of the helipad just as the bodyguard turned and raised a submachine gun. Luciano fired twice through the downpour; the bodyguard collapsed onto the wet tarmac.

Luciano stepped up to the open door of the helicopter, grabbed Silvio by his coat collar, and dragged him violently out onto the rain-slicked roof.

Silvio fell to his knees, clutching his bleeding shoulder, his silver hair plastered across his forehead.

"Luciano... please!" Silvio gasped, staring up at the barrel of Luciano’s gun. "We're family! Blood! Carmine would never let you kill your own uncle!"

"My father died believing you were his brother," Luciano said, standing over him like an avenging shadow. "You were a parasite living inside our house."

"If you kill me, the empire collapses!" Silvio screamed over the howling storm. "I control the accounts! I control the banks! Without me, Calvano Enterprises goes bankrupt in a week!"

Luciano looked down at the old man. For the first time in his life, he saw the ultimate truth of the underworld: an empire built on extortion, blood, and deceit was not an empire at all. It was a cage.

"Then let it burn," Luciano said.

He did not pull the trigger. Instead, he brought the heavy steel butt of his pistol down hard across Silvio’s jaw, knocking the old man unconscious.

Luciano turned to Marco, who had just burst onto the roof with three armed loyalists.

"Bind him," Luciano ordered. "Call the federal prosecutors. Hand him over with every single financial document, every ledger, and every forged signature we have."

Marco stared at Luciano in utter shock. "Boss... if we hand Silvio to the feds with those ledgers... it will tear down our entire operation. The syndicate will be destroyed."