Chapter 13 - Wrath of the Don
Back at the Continental Hotel, the room erupted into chaos the moment Alessandro turned on his heel.
Don Falcone shouted for his personal bodyguards to block the exits, but Alessandro didn't pause. When two armed Falcone operatives lunged to intercept him at the double doors, Alessandro moved with terrifying lethality. He dodged the first man’s reach, grabbed the operative’s wrist, and snapped it backward with a sickening crunch. He seized the guard’s concealed blade, drove it cleanly through the second man’s shoulder, and hurled both bodies into the marble fountain near the foyer.
Elena shrieked as Alessandro grabbed Don Falcone by his silk lapels, lifting the aging patriarch off his feet and slamming him against the gilded pillars of the ballroom.
“If they die,” Alessandro whispered, his voice vibrating with such unholy rage that even the surrounding mob bosses backed away in terror, “there is not a corner on this earth where you or your bloodline will find peace. I will burn your legacy to ash.”
He dropped the gasping old man to the floor and sprinted out of the hotel, Luca and Mateo hot on his heels.
Alessandro ripped the doors of his armored sedan open, gunning the twin-turbo engine until the tires screamed against the asphalt. He tore through red lights, rocketing up the winding mountain roads toward his estate at over a hundred miles per hour, his knuckles white against the steering wheel.
By the time the headlights of his vehicle swept across the shattered iron gates of his ancestral home, the grounds were a graveyard. Burning vehicles littered the driveway. Dead mercenaries lay strewn across the grass alongside fallen Moretti soldiers.
Alessandro didn't wait for his car to come to a complete stop. He kicked the door open, drawing twin customized Kimber 1911s from the compartment beneath the dash, and stormed into the mansion.
The grand foyer was covered in shattered marble and glass. Alessandro moved through the destruction like a demon of vengeance, clearing room after room. Any surviving mercenary who had the misfortune of crossing his path was eliminated with ruthless, surgical precision.
He leaped up the grand staircase three steps at a time, his heart in his throat, terrified of what he would find.
“Chiara!” he roared, the sound echoing through the blood-spattered hallways. “Chiara!”
He rounded the corner to the private wing and saw Salvatore slumped against the wall, bleeding profusely but still breathing.
“Boss…” Salvatore coughed, clutching his shattered shoulder. “The service alcove… the team leader took them down the rear service stairs toward the wine cellar… they wanted them alive for Elena…”
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Alessandro’s eyes turned pitch black. Without a word, he turned and sprinted down the hidden stone steps leading into the labyrinthine subterranean tunnels beneath the estate.
***
