Chapter 9 - MIDNIGHT RECKONING
Midnight on a Friday. The rain was coming down in sheets, washing the grime of Chicago into the gutters.
Enzo led the strike team to the gallery, blowing the vault and securing millions in untraceable cash and ledgers. The moment the call came in that the vault was empty, Dante made his move.
Dante didn’t sneak into the Caruso estate. He kicked the front doors off their hinges.
Caruso’s charity gala was winding down. The elite guests screamed and scattered like cockroaches as Dante stalked into the grand ballroom, his assault rifle raised. Ten of Caruso’s guards fell before they could even unholster their weapons, outmatched by Dante's ruthless precision.
Vincent Caruso stood near the grand staircase, his silver suit catching the chandelier light. The smugness was completely gone, replaced by naked terror.
Dante threw his empty rifle to the marble floor. He drew a combat knife from his belt.
“Your money is gone, Vincent,” Dante said, his voice carrying over the screams of the fleeing elite. “The politicians have the files on their desks. You have nothing left.”
Vincent drew a gold-plated pistol, his hands shaking. “I’ll kill you, you son of a b—”
Dante moved with terrifying speed. He dodged the wild shot, tackled Vincent to the stairs, and drove the knife through Vincent’s gun hand, pinning it to the mahogany wood.
Vincent screamed, a high, pathetic sound.
Dante leaned in close, his eyes black pools of vengeance. “This is for the bruise on her ribs,” Dante whispered, driving his fist into Vincent’s side with a sickening crack of bone.
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“This is for the cut on her waist,” Dante continued, his knuckles painting the marble red.
By the time Dante stood up, breathing heavily, the reign of Vincent Caruso was over. The monster of Chicago had been slaughtered by a bigger, more ruthless beast—one who killed for love.
