Chapter 7 - THE RECKONING
I stepped out of the trauma room, pulling the heavy steel door shut behind me. I heard the deadbolt slide into place.
The warehouse was cavernous, filled with rusted machinery, stacked crates, and shadows.
“Spread out! Find the door!” a voice barked.
I recognized the voice. It was Franco, Silvio’s top enforcer.
There were at least six of them. Armed with tactical rifles and flashlights. I had a single 9mm pistol and a lifetime of built-up rage.
I slipped into the shadows, moving silently behind a row of towering steel shipping containers.
I was Dominic Russo. I didn’t survive fifteen years in the underworld by playing fair. I survived because I was a ghost when I needed to be.
Franco walked past my container, his flashlight sweeping the floor.
I stepped out behind him, grabbed him by the throat, and snapped his neck before he could make a sound. I lowered his body to the floor and took his rifle.
Now, the odds were slightly better.
I moved to the next aisle. Two men were walking together, whispering.
I didn’t hesitate. I raised the rifle and fired two suppressed bursts. Both men dropped instantly.
“Over there!” someone yelled.
Gunfire erupted. Bullets sparked against the steel containers, tearing through the air around me. I dove behind a rusted forklift, returning fire.
One more down. Two left.
Then, the warehouse lights flickered and turned on, flooding the space in harsh fluorescent light.
Standing at the entrance of the warehouse, flanked by his two remaining guards, was Silvio.
He didn’t look panicked. He looked bored.
“Enough games, Dominic,” Silvio called out, his voice echoing in the large space. “Come out. You’re outgunned and out of time.”
I stayed behind the forklift, reloading the rifle.
“You ruined everything, Dominic,” Silvio continued, walking slowly down the center aisle. “The families were at peace. The money was flowing. And then you met Isabella. She made you weak. She made you care about things other than power. I had to correct the course.”
“You killed a mother to take a throne you didn’t earn, Silvio!” I shouted back.
“I earned it every time I cleaned up your messes,” Silvio spat. “I earned it when I had to make the hard choices you wouldn’t! Like today.”
Suddenly, the steel door to the trauma room scraped open.
My heart stopped.
David stumbled out, bleeding from a gunshot wound to his shoulder.
Silvio’s men had found a back entrance.
Two guards dragged Emily out into the warehouse. She was kicking and fighting, but they held her tight. One of them pressed a gun to her head.
Silvio smiled.
“Drop the weapon, Dominic. Or the maid dies. And then I open that door and finish what Rosa started.”
I stepped out from behind the forklift, dropping the rifle. It clattered against the concrete.
I raised my hands.
“Let her go, Silvio. This is between you and me.”
Silvio chuckled, walking toward me. “It was always between you and me. The girls, the wife, the maid… they’re just collateral.”
He stopped ten feet away from me. He pulled a silver revolver from his coat. The same revolver he had used to kill Isabella.
“Any last words for the empire you lost?” Silvio asked, raising the gun.
Answer one: Silvio believed he had won. He believed I was out of options.
Open two: He didn’t know I had slipped the flash drive into David’s pocket when we were in the trauma room. And he didn’t know I never surrendered without a plan.
“Yeah,” I said, looking him dead in the eyes. “You forgot one rule about me, Silvio.”
“And what’s that?”
“I never walk into a room without knowing exactly how to burn it down.”
I kicked a loose spark plug on the floor. It hit the massive, rusted propane tank sitting directly behind Silvio.
The tank that I had quietly shot a hole into five minutes ago. Gas had been leaking into the aisle the entire time.
Silvio frowned, sniffing the air.
I pulled my backup pistol from my ankle holster and fired a single shot.
Not at Silvio. At the sparks from an exposed electrical box next to the tank.
The explosion was deafening.
A wall of fire erupted, consuming Silvio and his two guards instantly. The shockwave threw me backward. I slammed into the concrete, the air knocked out of my lungs.
Flames licked the ceiling. The warehouse was turning into an inferno.
I groaned, forcing myself to roll over. My ears were ringing. My vision blurred.
I looked through the smoke.
Emily had thrown herself to the ground when the explosion hit. She was coughing, crawling toward the trauma room door.
I staggered to my feet, my ribs screaming in agony. I limped toward her.
“Emily!” I grabbed her arm, pulling her up.
“The girls!” she cried.
We threw open the trauma room door.
David was inside, clutching his bleeding shoulder, but he had shielded the girls from the blast. Lucia, Mia, and Valentina were crying, terrified by the noise, but they were alive.
“We have to move!” I yelled over the roar of the fire.
I grabbed Lucia. Emily grabbed Valentina and Mia. We helped David out the back door into the cool night air.
We ran toward the Civic.
But as I reached the car, a shadow emerged from the alley.
It was Franco. The man I thought I had killed. His neck wasn’t snapped, just badly bruised. And he had his rifle raised.
“For Silvio,” he rasped.
He pulled the trigger.
I turned, throwing my body over Lucia and Emily.
Three shots rang out.
May you like
Two hit the car.
The third hit me in the back.
