Chapter 6 - The Final ReckoningA blinding flash of white light exploded from the roof of the adjacent container crane as Wesley and his sniper team—positioned silently on the high ground across the slip—simultaneously neutralized Marcus’s perimeter snipers with suppressed, synchronized fire.
Before Marcus could pull the trigger on his rifle, Alessandro dropped to one knee, bringing his shotgun up with lightning speed and firing a heavy slug directly into the electrical transformer box mounted beside the catwalk.
SPARKS EXPLODED.
Halogen floodlights blew out in a shower of white-hot electrical fury, plunging the warehouse courtyard into near-total darkness, illuminated only by the strobe-like flashes of gunfire.
“Get down!” Alessandro screamed toward Sophia.
Sophia didn't hesitate. She threw herself over Emma, pressing the little girl flat against the wet concrete behind a concrete barrier just as a hail of automatic gunfire chewed up the ground where they had been standing seconds before.
Alessandro vaulted over a rusted oil drum, returning fire with lethal efficiency. Two of Marcus’s guards tumbled off the loading dock into the dark, freezing water of the river below.
On the catwalk, Marcus cursed wildly, firing blindly into the dark. “Kill them! Kill all of them!”
He grabbed Isabella by the hair, dragging her toward the interior escape stairs as his operation collapsed around him.
Alessandro didn't chase him up the stairs. Instead, he sprinted around the side of the warehouse, scaling the exterior fire escape with the agility of a man half his age, moving faster and quieter than the disoriented mercenaries inside.
By the time Marcus kicked open the rooftop access door, dragging a weeping Isabella behind him toward a waiting escape helicopter idling on the pad, Alessandro was already standing blocking the exit.
“End of the line, Marcus,” Alessandro said softly.
Marcus froze. He shoved Isabella aside, raising his pistol with a frantic snarl. “You should have stayed dead in Brooklyn, Moretti!”
BANG.
Alessandro’s Beretta spoke once.
The bullet caught Marcus square in the shoulder, spinning him violently around before he dropped his weapon and collapsed against the rooftop fencing, gasping for breath as the rain washed a dark crimson stain across his coat.
Isabella screamed, pressing herself against the metal wall, shaking uncontrollably as Alessandro slowly walked toward her.
He didn't point his gun at her. He simply looked down at the woman who had lied to him, used him, and nearly destroyed everything he had built.
“You wanted my empire, Isabella,” Alessandro said quietly. “You wanted a dynasty built on lies. But a house built on sand always washes away in the storm.”
He walked past her, grabbed Marcus by the collar of his coat, and dragged him toward the edge of the roof, dangling him dangerously close to the fifty-foot drop above the churning river.
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“Please... Alessandro... don't,” Marcus choked out, blood spilling from his lips.
“I’m not going to kill you, Marcus,” Alessandro said, his voice cold as ice. “The federal task force is waiting at the gates downstairs. You’re going to spend the rest of your natural life in a maximum-security federal penitentiary reflecting on how close you came to winning—and how completely you lost.”
