Chapter 4 - THE SIEGE OF LA ROSA
Holden had no intention of waiting twenty-four hours, nor did he intend to go to the South Docks alone. Playing by a rival’s rules was how men got killed in the underground. Holden had built his empire by changing the game entirely.
At 10:00 AM the following morning, while Lily was resting upstairs under the strict protection of Dr. Vance and a dozen elite guards, Holden launched phase one of his operation.
Dominic Moretti operated his illegal empire through a series of front businesses across the city, the largest of which was La Rosa, a high-end night club and luxury casino in the heart of the financial district. It was where Moretti’s top captains laundered millions in illicit cash every week.
Instead of sending in assassins, Holden used his power as a corporate titan first.
At 10:15 AM, three federal agencies—the IRS, the ATF, and the State Gaming Commission—simultaneously raided La Rosa accompanied by heavily armed federal marshals. Holden’s legal team had delivered a two-hundred-page dossier containing irrefutable evidence of Moretti’s money laundering, human trafficking, and tax evasion directly to the desk of the State Attorney General at 8:00 AM.
Within forty-five minutes, every bank account tied to the Moretti family was frozen. Their assets were seized. Their legal businesses were shut down. The financial foundation that Dominic had built over forty years crumbled into dust in a single morning.
Inside his heavily fortified compound on the outskirts of the city, Dominic Moretti was screaming at his lieutenants as news of the economic destruction flashed across his television screens.
“How did he do this?!” Dominic roared, throwing a crystal whiskey glass against the wall, shattering it into a thousand pieces. “The federal judges were in our pocket!”
“Cross bought the judges’ debts three hours ago, Boss,” his right-hand man, Marco, stammered, holding a ringing phone. “He paid off their mortgages and offered them immunity if they signed the warrants. We’re broke, Boss! The banks won't process our wire transfers! Our men on the streets aren't getting paid!”
Before Dominic could respond, the power in the compound flickered and went out completely. The backup generators hummed for three seconds before a loud explosion echoed from the basement, plunging the entire estate into total darkness.
“What was that?!” Dominic shouted, pulling a silver-plated Magnum from his belt.
“Security grid is down!” a guard yelled from the hallway. “The perimeter fences have been breached!”
Outside, in the pouring rain, three black armored vehicles smashed through the heavy security gates of the Moretti compound. But no gunshots were fired.
Holden Cross stepped out of the lead vehicle. He wasn't wearing tactical gear. He wore an immaculate charcoal-grey three-piece suit, a black trench coat, and leather gloves. Beside him stood Phantom, the massive Cane Corso wearing a heavy tactical harness. Behind them marched twenty of Holden’s most ruthless enforcers, armed with suppressed assault rifles.
“Take the compound,” Holden ordered coldly. “Leave Dominic alive. The rest who draw a weapon... put them down.”
What followed was not a battle; it was a systematic execution. Holden’s men moved through the dark hallways with terrifying efficiency, taking out Moretti’s panicked guards before they could even organize a defense. Phantom moved like a shadow through the corridors, neutralizing armed men with brutal precision, answering only to Holden’s sharp, quiet commands.
Holden walked calmly through the chaos, stepping over fallen enforcers without breaking his stride. He reached the heavy double doors of Dominic’s private study and kicked them open.
Inside, Dominic stood behind his mahogany desk, sweating profusely, his gun shaking as he aimed it at Holden’s chest. Marco lay on the floor, unconscious and bleeding.
“Stay back, Cross!” Dominic screamed, his eyes wild with terror. “I’ll shoot you! I swear to God I’ll shoot you!”
Holden didn't stop walking. He didn't even draw a weapon. He walked straight up to the desk, staring down at the aging mob boss with eyes that held zero humanity.
“Where is Evelyn?” Holden asked quietly.
Dominic’s finger trembled on the trigger. “She... she isn't here! I swear she isn't here!”
Holden reached across the desk, grabbed Dominic’s wrist with terrifying strength, and twisted it downward. The gun discharged harmlessly into the floor before Holden slammed Dominic’s face onto the wooden desk, pinning him down with one hand.
Phantom stepped into the room, placing his front paws on the edge of the desk, his massive jaws dripping with saliva as he growled inches from Dominic’s ear.
“I will ask you one more time, Dominic,” Holden whispered, bending down close to the terrified man’s ear. “And if you lie to me, I will let Phantom eat your face off piece by piece. Where is my wife?”
Dominic sobbed, his bravado completely shattered. “The... the old meatpacking plant near the river! She’s in the basement sub-level! My brother Sal is holding her there! Please... don't kill me!”
Holden squeezed Dominic’s wrist until the bone cracked. “You made a mistake when you brought my family into this, Dominic.”
Holden pulled a heavy pair of zip-ties from his coat, bound Dominic’s hands tightly behind his back, and dragged him toward the door like a sack of trash.
“Marcus,” Holden called out to his second-in-command, who entered the study wiping blood from his cheek.
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“Sir?”
“Put Dominic in the back of the van. We’re going to the meatpacking plant.”
