Chapter 10 - The Reckoning of the Viscari
Inside the main assembly hall of the iron works, the air was thick with the smell of old grease, rust, and copper.
Massive rusted crane beams stretched across the ceiling, casting long, terrifying shadows in the dim morning light filtering through the high, broken skylights.
At the far end of the hall, seated in a wheelchair surrounded by a dozen armed bodyguards, sat Frank Moretti.
Beside him, tied to an iron pillar with his face bruised and bloody, was Marcus Blake.
When Marcus saw me walk through the heavy doors beside Adrien, his bloodshot eyes widened in terror. “Lena! Please! Help me! They’re going to kill me!”
I didn't even look at him. My eyes were fixed on the old man in the wheelchair.
Frank Moretti grinned, a grotesque, toothy expression that made his wrinkled face look like a skull.
“You actually brought her, Adrien,” Moretti rasped, his voice echoing through the hollow hall. “I must admit, I doubted you had the stomach for a true exchange.”
“There is no exchange, Frank,” Adrien said, his voice ringing out like a death knell as twenty Viscari soldiers stepped out from the shadows of the upper catwalks, their rifles trained directly on Moretti’s men.
Moretti’s grin faded slightly as he looked up at the catwalks, realizing in an instant that his security detail was completely surrounded and outgunned.
“You think you’ve won?” Moretti sneered, reaching into his lap robe and pulling out a small, red detonator. “This entire facility is rigged with commercial explosives. You shoot me, and we all burn together.”
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the room.
Nobody moved.
Adrien didn't hesitate for a single second. He stepped forward, placing himself directly between Moretti’s men and me, his rifle aimed straight at Moretti’s forehead.
“You’re an old man, Frank,” Adrien said coldly. “You’re dying of cancer, your empire is collapsing, and your money is gone. You don't care about living. But I do.”
Adrien slowly reached back, taking my hand in his, locking his fingers tightly with mine.
“I have everything to live for,” Adrien continued, his voice ringing with absolute certainty. “And that’s why you lose.”
Before Moretti could press the red button on the detonator, a sharp POP echoed from the high catwalk above.
A single sniper round tore through Moretti’s wrist, shattering his hand and sending the red detonator flying onto the dirt floor.
Moretti screamed in agony, clutching his ruined wrist.
His bodyguards raised their weapons to return fire, but the room instantly exploded into a chaotic storm of tactical gunfire.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Adrien pulled me down behind a heavy steel girder, shielding my body with his own as the Viscari soldiers systematically neutralized Moretti’s men with ruthless efficiency.
Within forty seconds, the gunfire stopped.
The heavy silence returned to the iron works, broken only by the low groans of the wounded and the hiss of escaping steam from a broken pipe.
Adrien stood up, pulling me up beside him.
Frank Moretti was lying on the floor, bleeding, his guards dead or disarmed around him. Marcus was sobbing hysterically against his iron pillar, completely broken by terror.
Adrien walked over to Moretti, stepping on the old man’s ruined wrist until he gasped in pain.
“It’s over, Frank,” Adrien said quietly.
He reached down, picked up the red detonator, and threw it into a pit of stagnant water nearby.
Then, Adrien turned to Marco. “Call the federal prosecutors. Hand them the micro-SD card from Lena’s locket. Tell them Frank Moretti, Marcus Blake, and every remaining member of their network are ready for processing.”
Marco nodded, stepping away to make the call.
Adrien walked back to where I stood, his face softening completely as he reached out to take my shaking hands into his.
“It’s finished, Lena,” he whispered, his dark eyes shining with relief. “Your mother’s debt is paid. You’re free.”
I looked at him—this dangerous, terrifying man who had brought an entire underworld empire to its knees just to keep me safe—and felt a profound warmth wash over my soul.
“I don't want to be free of you, Adrien,” I said softly, looking up into his eyes.
Adrien smiled—a genuine, breathtaking smile that transformed his dark, hardened face into something infinitely handsome.
He leaned down, slipping his arms around my waist, pulling me close against his chest before pressing his lips softly to mine.
May you like
The kiss was sweet, deep, and filled with the promise of a future where neither of us would ever have to run again.
Outside, the first golden rays of the morning sun broke through the gray clouds, illuminating the skyline of New York in a brilliant, beautiful light.
