Chapter 5 - The Confession in the Vault
By 3:00 AM, the sprawling Rossi estate had been transformed into an airtight fortress. The snow-covered grounds outside were patrolled by dozens of armed enforcers, and every security camera feed was routed directly to my private terminal.
Marco didn't make it to the helipad. Viktor’s men cornered him in the sub-level wine cellar, putting a non-lethal slug through his other leg before dragging him up to the estate’s private interrogation vault.
Dr. Vance had tried to flee in his Lexus SUV, but my perimeter guards disabled his tires at the front gates before he could clear the automated security perimeter.
Now, both traitors were locked inside the concrete vault beneath the mansion.
I stood in the center of the cold, windowless room. A single overhead bulb cast harsh, dramatic shadows across the scarred concrete floor. Marco sat strapped to a heavy metal chair, his pant leg soaked in blood, his face pale from shock and blood loss. Dr. Vance was cowering in the corner, trembling violently, babbling apologies to the empty air.
I slowly walked around Marco’s chair, my heavy leather boots echoing off the concrete walls. I was holding a thick, leather-bound ledger—the very ledger Isabella had discovered before they murdered her.
“You know, Marco,” I said quietly, my voice devoid of any emotion. “Fifteen years ago, I pulled you out of a gutter in Brooklyn. I gave you money, a title, a family, and power. And you repaid me by assassinating my wife and trying to starve my infant son.”
Marco spat a glob of blood onto the concrete, his dark eyes flashing with defiant hatred. “You think you’re a king, Lorenzo? You’re a dinosaur. The syndicate was moving past you. We were cutting deals with the Chicago families and the European cartels behind your back—deals that would have made us billions. Isabella was just a naive girl who stumbled into a safe she shouldn't have opened.”
“She was my wife,” I snarled, stepping forward and slamming the heavy ledger across the table in front of him. “And you executed her like an animal.”
“She wasn't your wife!” Marco yelled back, veins bulging in his neck. “She was a pawn! Just like this new girl—Clara—and just like that brat upstairs! You think you rule the underworld, Lorenzo? Half the capos on the commission are already backing the Chicago syndicate! By sunrise, your estate will be surrounded, and your empire will belong to us!”
I didn't yell. I didn't strike him. I simply pulled my Beretta from my holster, checked the chamber with a sharp, metallic clack, and pressed the cold barrel directly against Marco’s forehead.
“The commission isn't backing anyone, Marco,” I whispered. “Because as of ten minutes ago, my strike teams neutralized every capo in New York and Chicago who signed your secret charter.”
Marco’s defiant smirk instantly vanished. Color drained entirely from his face. “You... you moved against the commission?”
“You thought I was a dinosaur,” I smiled coldly. “A dinosaur has teeth.”
Bang.
The single gunshot echoed deafeningly inside the concrete vault.
May you like
Dr. Vance shrieked, collapsing into a fetal position on the floor, weeping hysterically.
I looked down at Marco’s lifeless body, then turned my cold gaze toward the cowering doctor. “Vance. You have two minutes to tell me every single name involved in this conspiracy, or you get the same exit strategy.”
