THE DUCAS' REDEMPTION

"Run!" I commanded, shoving Elena toward the end of the tunnel.

I turned back, dropping to one knee behind a large stone pillar, raising my rifle toward the approaching flashlight beams. Four men were advancing down the corridor. I took a deep breath, letting the rage I had suppressed for fifteen years completely consume me. The boy who hid in the burning library died. Only the devil remained.

I squeezed the trigger. The tight confines of the stone tunnel turned the gunfire into a deafening roar. Two men dropped instantly. The others scrambled for cover, returning fire that chipped the ancient stone around my head.

I advanced. I didn't hide; I became the predator. Moving from pillar to pillar, I picked them off one by one until the tunnel was silent again, save for the dripping of water.

I made my way back up the stairs, stepping over the wreckage of my safe room, and emerged back into the mansion. The battle had quieted down. Most of the Falcone men were dead or had surrendered to my surviving guards.

In the center of the ruined atrium, kneeling on the blood-stained marble, was Vittorio Falcone. Marco had his gun pressed to the back of the underboss's head.

I walked slowly down the grand staircase, my boots crunching on broken glass. Vittorio looked up, his face bruised and bleeding. When he saw me, a twisted, hateful smile crossed his face.

"You think you've won, Duca?" Vittorio spat, coughing up blood. "My father will burn the whole city down to avenge me."

"Your father is a ghost, Vittorio," I said coldly, stopping right in front of him. "And after tonight, the Falcone name will only be a cautionary tale."

"You're nothing but a stray dog playing king," he snarled.

I didn't argue. I didn't give a grand speech. I simply drew my sidearm, aimed it at his chest, and pulled the trigger.