Chapter 9 - NIGHT OF THE WOLVES
At midnight, the North Gate was quietly unlocked from the inside by Dante’s corrupt guard.
Three black SUVs slipped through the heavy snow, their headlights turned off, rolling silently up the long winding driveway of the Moretti estate.
Twelve heavily armed mercenaries, led by Carmine Lucchesi’s top enforcer, Marco "The Ax" Vanchori, stepped out into the freezing night. Dante walked behind them, pulling a gun from his coat, his face flushed with adrenaline.
“Remember,” Dante whispered urgently. “Vincent’s office is on the second floor. Take him out first!”
The mercenaries breached the side doors of the glass conservatory, stepping into the darkness.
Suddenly, the grand estate flooded with blinding white spotlights!
The heavy metal shutters on all windows slammed down automatically, locking the intruders inside the ground floor!
From the top of the grand marble staircase, Vincent Moretti stood looking down at them. He wore no jacket now—just his black vest, his hands resting on the handles of his twin .45s. Beside him stood twenty fully armed Moretti elite guards, their red laser sights instantly painting the chests of Lucchesi’s men.
Dante dropped his gun in sheer horror. “No... no! It’s a trap!”
Vanchori raised his assault rifle—
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Vincent drew his pistols with terrifying, blind speed! Three shots echoed like thunder through the grand hall! Vanchori fell dead before his rifle hit the floor!
Chaos erupted. Lucchesi’s mercenaries scattered for cover, but they were hopelessly trapped inside the kill zone. The Moretti guards fired with disciplined precision, suppressing the intruders within ninety seconds.
When the gunfire ceased, the grand hall was filled with gunsmoke and deafening silence.
Dante was kneeling on the bloody marble floor, weeping hysterically, his hands raised above his head.
“Vince! Vince, please!” Dante sobbed, crawling toward the stairs. “It was Lucchesi! He forced me! He threatened to kill me if I didn't help him!”
Vincent walked slowly down the marble stairs, his footsteps steady, his eyes completely devoid of mercy. He stopped two feet from his trembling brother.
“You traded your own blood for forty percent of a dock,” Vincent said coldly, aiming his gun directly at Dante’s head.
“Vince, we’re brothers!” Dante screamed, tears pouring down his face. “Sofia... Sofia wouldn't want you to kill your own brother!”
Vincent’s thumb pulled back the hammer of the gun with a sharp, lethal click.
“Do not use my daughter’s name to save your pathetic life,” Vincent whispered. “Sofia loved this family. You tried to destroy it.”
Vincent lowered his gun slightly, pointing it at Dante’s shoulder.
BANG!
Dante shrieked in pain as the bullet shattered his collarbone! He collapsed onto his side, squirming on the floor.
“You won't die tonight, Dante,” Vincent said coldly, looking down at his bleeding brother. “Death is too easy. Aldo has arranged for you to be transferred to a private facility in South America. You will spend the rest of your life surrounded by walls, with not a single dollar to your name.”
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Vincent turned to his guards. “Clean this room. Call the police to collect Lucchesi’s men. Tell them it was a home invasion.”
Vincent turned away, stepping through the smoke and broken glass, heading straight for the basement stairs.
