Chapter 6 - Fire and Blood
The courtyard of the Rossi estate erupted into a warzone of flashing muzzle blashes and shattering glass. Victor Vance’s men swarmed the iron gates, firing automatic weapons toward the main entrance, attempting to seize control of the syndicate's operational heart while Dante was isolated.
They had miscalculated.
Dante led his enforcers from the front, moving through the shadows of the courtyard with ruthless, surgical precision. Every shot he fired found its mark. The years of pent-up anger, the betrayal of his mother, and the overwhelming protective fury he felt for Grace fused into an unstoppable force.
Beside him, Marco and the loyal guards cut down the invading vanguard before they could even breach the heavy oak doors of the mansion.
From the shadows of the western terrace, Victor Vance himself stepped out, holding a silenced pistol, aiming directly at Dante’s chest as Dante paused behind a stone pillar to reload.
"It's over, Rossi!" Vance yelled over the gunfire. "Your empire is crumbling from the inside out!"
Before Vance could pull the trigger, a dark, armored SUV careened around the corner of the drive, its headlights blinding Vance instantly. The passenger door flew open, and one of Dante's top snipers neutralized Vance’s weapon hand with a single, precise shot. Vance screamed, dropping his gun to the frozen ground as his shoulder shattered.
Dante walked slowly across the snowy courtyard, his boots crunching on the ice, until he stood over the groaning rival syndicate boss. He pressed the barrel of his gun gently against Vance’s forehead.
"You thought you could play both sides," Dante said quietly. "You thought my family's civil war was your invitation to scavenge."
"Spare me... Rossi," Vance choked out, bleeding into the snow.
"Take him away," Dante ordered, turning his back on Vance with supreme contempt. "Lock him in the federal holding cells with my mother. Let them figure out who betrayed who in a prison cell."
Within twenty minutes, the gunfire died down completely. The remaining members of Vance’s strike team surrendered or fled into the freezing night. The courtyard fell silent once more, save for the crackling of burning debris near the outer gates and the soft, steady drift of falling snow.
May you like
Dante dropped his weapon into his holster, wiping soot and sweat from his forehead. His clothes were stained, his hands battered, but for the first time in six months, his soul felt entirely clean.
He didn't waste a second. He turned away from the wreckage, climbed into his car, and ordered the driver to take him straight back to White Plains Memorial Hospital.
