Chapter 9 - The Siege of Glen Cove
The grand hallway of the Moretti estate looked like a war zone. Smoke from tear gas canisters drifted through the air, mixing with the smell of gunpowder. Men in black tactical gear bearing the Moretti Maritime crest were systematically disarming Marco’s guards, throwing them against the walls and securing the corridors.
Elena flattened herself against a marble pillar as a group of tactical operatives swept past her.
"Hold your fire!" a commanding voice boomed through the lower hall.
Lorenzo Moretti ascended the grand staircase, flanked by six armed men. He wasn't wearing a suit anymore; he wore a black tactical vest over a dark sweater, a heavy pistol held at his side. He looked like an ancient king returning to reclaim a stolen throne.
Marco stood at the top of the stairs, backed against the double doors of the master suite, his gun raised, his breathing ragged.
"Stay back, Lorenzo!" Marco screamed, his voice high and unstable. "You step any closer and I’ll blow this whole place to hell! I’ve got explosives wired to the basement servers!"
Lorenzo stopped three steps from the top. He didn't raise his gun. He looked at his half-brother with cold pity.
"There are no explosives in the basement, Marco," Lorenzo said calmly. "Vance disarmed your detonators ten minutes ago."
Marco’s eyes went wide. "You’re lying!"
"You were always predictable," Lorenzo said, taking another step up. "You thought you were clever, leaving my daughter in a dumpster like garbage so you could take my seat. You thought no one would care."
"She was a distraction!" Marco yelled, tears of frustration spilling down his cheeks. "You changed after she was born! You became weak! You stopped expanding the shipping lanes, you started paying taxes, you started acting like a legitimate businessman! We are Morettis! We rule this city through fear, not charity!"
"We rule through loyalty," Lorenzo corrected him, his voice echoing through the silent hall as all firing ceased. "A concept you never understood."
Marco raised his pistol, aiming directly at Lorenzo’s chest. "Then die with your loyalty!"
Before Marco could pull the trigger, Elena—who was standing in the shadows behind Marco near the study entrance—did the only thing she could think of.
She took the heavy silver champagne bucket from her catering tray and threw it with all her strength.
The heavy metal container struck Marco square in the back of the head.
Marco stumbled forward, his gun discharging harmlessly into the plaster ceiling.
Lorenzo moved like a panther. He closed the distance in a split second, kicking Marco’s weapon down the stairs, grabbing his brother by the collar, and slamming him face-first onto the hardwood floor.
Vance and three other guards rushed forward, pinning Marco to the ground and pulling his arms behind his back with plastic zip-ties.
Marco spat blood onto the floor, glaring up at Lorenzo, then his eyes flicked toward Elena, who stood trembling near the study door, holding her empty catering tray.
"Who... who the hell is she?" Marco wheezed.
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Lorenzo walked over to Elena, stepping between her and the fallen traitor. He looked down at her with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat.
"She," Lorenzo said, his voice ringing through the hall, "is the woman who saved the heir to the Moretti family. And she just delivered your death warrant."
