Chapter 8 - The Battle for Lake Forest
The grand foyer of the Lake Forest estate looked like a war zone.
Heavy oak doors had been blown off their hinges by explosive charges. Glass from the shattered chandelier covered the marble floor like frozen rain.
Moretti’s enforcers, dressed in dark winter gear, flooded through the breached entryway, firing automatic rifles into the upper mezzanine.
Matteo and six Gallo guards held the upper landing, returning fire with disciplined, terrifying precision.
Dominic stepped out from the master suite hallway, taking cover behind a heavy marble pillar on the second-floor balcony.
Below him, standing near the ruined front entrance flanked by four heavy gunmen, was Don Carmine Moretti himself—an aging, scarred crime boss from South Chicago—alongside Celeste Rossi, who wore a heavy fur coat and a sneer of pure hatred.
“Dominic!” Moretti shouted above the roar of gunfire, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. “Give us the girl and the ledgers, and I’ll leave you enough of your empire to bury your guards!”
Dominic didn't answer with words.
He leaned around the pillar and fired three rapid shots.
The two gunmen standing directly beside Celeste dropped to the marble floor, blood pooling across the white stone.
Celeste screamed in terror, dropping to her knees behind a overturned leather sofa as Moretti’s remaining men sprayed the second-floor balcony with heavy rifle fire.
“You brought twenty men to my home, Carmine!” Dominic’s voice boomed down from the upper floor, cold, resonant, and entirely unbothered by the bullets tearing into the woodwork around him. “You should have brought an army!”
At that exact moment, the heavy snow outside the shattered front doors was illuminated by dozens of blinding white spotlights.
The roaring sound of six heavy tactical trucks tore through the forest driveway as forty additional Gallo syndicate enforcers—led by Dominic’s younger brother, Marco—surrounded the estate from the rear, cutting off every escape route!
The gunfire inside the foyer ground to a sudden, violent halt.
Moretti looked back toward the open entrance, his eyes widening in horror as he realized he had been funnelled straight into an absolute kill zone.
“Drop your weapons!” Marco’s voice echoed from outside through a bullhorn. “Or we level the entrance!”
Moretti’s surviving men dropped their rifles onto the glass-strewn floor, raising their hands in surrender.
Celeste cowered behind the sofa, sobbing hysterical tears of panic as Dominic walked slowly down the grand marble staircase, his pistol held loosely at his side, his boots crunching on the broken glass.
He stopped three feet from her.
“Dominic... please!” Celeste begged, looking up at him with wild, frantic eyes. “He forced me! Moretti made me do it! He threatened my father!”
Dominic looked down at her with pure, unadulterated disgust.
“Take them to the cellar,” Dominic commanded Marco without taking his eyes off Celeste. “The federal prosecutor will be here in two hours to collect Carmine Moretti for state treason. As for Ms. Rossi...”
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He stepped closer, leaning down to whisper in her ear.
“You’re going back to New York in a wooden crate. Stripped of every dollar your family ever touched.”
