Chapter 7 - IN THE LION'S DEN
The plan was suicide, but I had nothing left to lose. My soul was already halfway across the Atlantic, flying away with a woman and a child who deserved a life bathed in sunlight, not drowning in my darkness.
It had been twenty-four hours since I forced Elena and Lily onto that plane. Marcus and I had spent the day rallying the remaining loyal factions of the Romano syndicate. Dante’s betrayal had weeded out the weak; the men standing with me now were zealots, ready to burn the city to ashes at my command.
We were going to hit Moretti’s heavily fortified compound on the South Side. A direct, frontal assault. No shadows, no tricks. Just pure, unadulterated violence.
I was strapping on a Kevlar vest in the armory when my burner phone buzzed. It was a number I didn't recognize.
I answered. “Speak.”
“Adrian Romano,” Vincenzo Moretti’s greasy, arrogant voice oozed through the speaker. “I hear you’ve been busy making travel arrangements. Private jets. Fake passports. Very romantic.”
The blood drained from my face. My heart stopped beating. “If you touched them, Moretti—”
“Oh, I haven’t touched them yet,” Vincenzo chuckled darkly. “My men intercepted the convoy before they reached the airstrip. Your little housekeeper is quite the fighter. She broke one of my guy’s noses. But the kid… she just cries. Calls for ‘Mister Big House’.”
A blinding, roaring white noise consumed my mind. The earth tilted on its axis. He had them.
“What do you want?” I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm, the calm of a man who has fully embraced death.
“You,” Vincenzo said. “Alone. Unarmed. At my compound in one hour. You walk through the front gates, you surrender your territory, you surrender your life, and I’ll put the woman and the brat on a plane myself. You bring your men, and I’ll send them back to you in pieces.”
He hung up.
I stood frozen, staring at the wall. Marcus walked in, carrying a crate of explosives. He saw my face and dropped the crate. “Boss. What is it?”
“He has them,” I whispered.
Marcus cursed violently. “Alright. We hit the compound now. We take everything we have—”
“No.” I held up a hand. I stripped off the heavy tactical gear, leaving only my tailored black suit. I threw my weapons onto the table. The pistols, the knives, all of it.
“Adrian, what the hell are you doing?” Marcus grabbed my arm.
“I’m going alone. Unarmed,” I said, looking him dead in the eye. “It’s the only way he doesn't kill them immediately.”
“It’s a trap! He’s going to execute you the second you walk through the gates, and then he’ll kill them anyway!”
“I know.” I pulled my arm away. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small, detonator switch, the size of a key fob. I palmed it, hiding it up my sleeve. “Which is why I am not going to surrender. I am going to make sure Vincenzo Moretti never threatens another soul again. Marcus, wait ten minutes after I go in. Then, bring the wrath of God down on that building.”
An hour later, I stood before the towering iron gates of the Moretti estate. The rain had stopped, leaving the city slick and gleaming under the streetlights. The gates swung open. Thirty armed men lined the driveway, their weapons trained on me.
I walked slowly, my hands empty, my face an emotionless mask. I felt the phantom weight of Lily’s paint on my face. I remembered Elena’s touch. I walked into the lion's den with the swagger of a king, because they had given me something worth dying for.
They patted me down at the door, finding nothing but the suit on my back. They led me into a massive, opulent ballroom. Vincenzo Moretti sat on a velvet chair at the far end, smoking a cigar, looking like a bloated king.
But my eyes instantly locked on the center of the room. Elena was tied to a chair, her face bruised, her lip bleeding. Lily was huddled in her lap, crying softly, clutching her rabbit.
When Elena saw me, she let out a strangled cry. “Adrian! Why did you come? You promised me you would stay away!”
“I lied,” I said softly, my eyes never leaving hers. I wanted her to know, in this final moment, exactly what she meant to me. “I couldn't live in a world without you in it.”
“How touching,” Vincenzo sneered, standing up and walking toward me, drawing a heavy silver revolver. “The great Adrian Romano, brought to his knees by a maid and a bastard child. You disgust me.”
He leveled the gun at my head. “Get on your knees, Adrian.”
I looked at Vincenzo, a slow, dark smile spreading across my face. I slipped my hand into my pocket, my thumb resting on the detonator. My men had planted C4 in the foundation of this building months ago, an insurance policy I never thought I’d use.
“I don't bow to dead men, Vincenzo,” I said, my voice echoing in the silent room.
May you like
I looked at Elena one last time. “Cover her ears.”
I pressed the button.
