Chapter 2 - The Echo of Manhattan
Alessandro’s instincts instantly kicked in. He shoved Elena behind him toward the kitchen pantry. "Get Mia, get Sophia, and lock yourselves in the vault behind my office! Do not come out until I open the door!"
Elena didn't hesitate. She scrambled up the back stairs while Alessandro drew his custom matte-black Sig Sauer from his shoulder holster. Outside, the roar of a modified engine echoed across the cobblestone driveway, followed by the violent crunch of metal striking the estate’s armored portico.
Marco and three guards took defensive positions near the marble foyer. The front doors crashed open under a hail of suppressed gunfire. Glass shattered, and marble splinters flew through the air as masked shooters poured into the grand entryway.
"Take them down!" Alessandro barked, stepping out from behind a thick stone column and firing three rapid rounds, dropping the lead attacker instantly.
The shootout was fast, violent, and precise. Alessandro moved like a phantom—a man who had spent his entire adult life surrounded by death. Within ninety seconds, four attackers lay dead on the Persian rug. One survived, wounded in the leg, crawling toward the dropped rifle.
Alessandro stepped on the man’s wrist, crushing it beneath his leather boot, and leaned down, pulling off the shooter's tactical mask. The face underneath was young, tattooed with a distinct falcon crest along the jawline.
"Falcone," Alessandro spat, his voice laced with venom. "Dominic sends his greetings from the grave?"
"You... you think you killed the snake, Moretti?" the hitman choked out, coughing blood. "Dominic's brother... Victor... he’s back from Sicily. He knows about the baby. He knows she survived Manhattan."
Alessandro’s heart turned to ice. Victor Falcone was a psychopath who had spent a decade in a European prison. If he had returned to reclaim the syndicate, he would settle the feud by wiping out the entire Moretti bloodline.
Without another word, Alessandro raised his weapon and ended the hitman's life. He turned to Marco. "Clean this up. Burn the vehicle. Lock down the estate perimeter. No one enters, no one leaves."
Alessandro hurried down to the vault. He punched in the eight-digit code and swept his thumb across the biometric scanner. The heavy steel door slid open. Inside, Elena was huddled in the corner, holding both Sophia and Mia close to her chest. Mia was whispering soft words to the terrified baby, gently stroking Sophia’s head.
Seeing the blood splatters on Alessandro’s shirt, Elena gasped, pulling the children closer.
Alessandro reholstered his weapon and took a deep breath, trying to soften his harsh appearance. He knelt in front of them. "You're safe. It’s over for now."
Mia looked up at him with wide, innocent dark eyes. She reached out with her small hand, touching the edge of his blood-stained sleeve. "Big man sad?" she asked softly.
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The question hit Alessandro like a physical blow. He froze. For eleven months, everyone had treated him as a monster, a ruthless boss, or a grieving widower to be feared. No one had asked how he felt.
"I'm fine, little one," Alessandro murmured, his voice cracking slightly. He looked at Elena. "Pack your things. Long Island is compromised. By nightfall, we move to the safehouse in the Catskill Mountains."
