Chapter 8 - Blood on the Marble
Outside the panic room, the Romano estate had transformed into a brutal warzone.
Mateo Moretti’s hit squad—fifteen heavily armed mercenaries—had breached the ground floor, spraying automatic fire through the grand foyer and dining hall. But they had vastly underestimated the lethal efficiency of Alessio Romano’s private defense force.
Dominic, bleeding from a graze wound on his forehead, was firing a heavy shotgun from behind a marble pillar, blowing two intruders off their feet as they tried to charge the double staircase.
"Flank the left side!" Dominic bellowed to the surviving guards. "Protect the boss!"
From the top of the sweeping balcony, Alessio moved like a shadow of pure death.
He didn't hide behind cover. He moved with cold, terrifying precision, firing his Glock with surgical accuracy. Three shot bursts, three targets down—each bullet finding the space between tactical helmets and body armor.
"Romano!" a voice bellowed from the shattered foyer below.
Mateo Moretti stepped through the ruined front entrance, flanked by four heavily armored enforcers carrying submachine guns. He was holding a remote detonator in his hand.
"Come down, Alessio!" Mateo sneered, his voice echoing off the high plaster ceilings. "Or I blow the charges planted along the east wing! The whole house comes down!"
Alessio paused at the top of the stairs, looking down at his lifelong enemy. His face was entirely devoid of fear, his grey eyes dead and cold as ice.
"You brought a war to my home, Mateo," Alessio said, his voice dropping into a terrifyingly low rumble that cut through the sound of crackling fires and groaning men. "You killed my wife. And now you come for my son."
"I come to finish the job!" Mateo yelled, raising his weapon.
Before Mateo could pull the trigger, the heavy glass skylight seventy feet above the foyer shattered inward.
Two tactical ropes dropped through the roof, and two more of Alessio’s elite rapid-response guards descended like dark angels, opening fire from above.
The surprise aerial assault threw Mateo’s enforcers into complete chaos. Dominic charged from behind his pillar, slamming his heavy frame into Viktor, disarming the enforcer and breaking his neck in one fluid motion.
Alessio didn't wait. He vaulted over the grand marble balcony railing, dropping twelve feet to the hard stone floor below, landing gracefully in a low roll.
He came up right in front of Mateo Moretti.
Before Mateo could press the detonator, Alessio’s left hand shot out like a steel trap, grabbing Mateo’s wrist and snapping it backward with a sickening crunch. The detonator clattered uselessly onto the bloody marble floor.
Mateo screamed in agony, dropping to his knees.
Alessio didn't hesitate. He grabbed Mateo by the throat, hoisting the older boss off the floor, slamming him violently against the central marble fountain.
"This is for my wife," Alessio whispered softly into Mateo’s ear.
BANG.
Alessio fired a single shot straight through Mateo’s heart.
The body went limp instantly. Alessio released his grip, letting the leader of the North Side Syndicate collapse into the pool of red-stained water at the base of the fountain.
The gunfire downstairs slowly died out. The remaining mercenaries were either dead or disarmed, pinned to the floor by Dominic’s surviving guards.
Silence returned to the shattered mansion, heavy with the metallic smell of gunpowder and blood.
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Alessio stood in the center of the ruined foyer, breathing heavily, his suit ruined, blood splattered across his cheek. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, re-holstered his weapon, and turned toward the stairs.
"Clean this up, Dominic," Alessio ordered quietly. "And call the construction crews. We have a house to rebuild."
