Chapter 5 - The Uprising
The heavy glass French doors shattered inward as a coordinated volley of submachine gun fire ripped through the mercenaries flanking Marcus.
Tommy Reyes—acting on instructions Luca had given him ten minutes before the raid—hadn't fled through the tunnels alone. He had triggered the estate’s automated defense grid, a legacy security system Luca had installed years ago and wired directly to an encrypted mainframe in the boathouse. The estate’s automated spotlights flared to life, blinding the mercenaries with a wall of searing white light.
From the hallway, a squad of loyal enforcers—men who had remained silent and hidden in the shadows for years, waiting for a sign from their true boss—poured into the room, weapons drawn.
Marcus’s mercenaries scrambled, firing blindly into the blinding light, but they were trapped in a crossfire. Within seconds, two of them dropped their weapons and hit the floor, neutralized without a single shot fired by Luca himself.
Marcus spun around, panic flaring in his eyes as he realized his trap had been completely inverted. He grabbed a wounded mercenary’s rifle, turning it toward Luca’s desk—
Crack.
The sound of Luca’s pistol was sharp, clean, and absolute.
The bullet caught Marcus squarely in the right shoulder, spinning him around and sending the rifle clattering across the polished floorboards. Marcus screamed, clutching his bleeding shoulder as he collapsed against the bookshelf, sliding down until he hit the floor in a heap of blood and shattered glass.
The gunfire died down as quickly as it had begun. The smell of cordite and ozone hung heavy in the ruined study.
Luca didn't blink. With a deep, steadying breath, he gripped the edges of the desk, forced his weight onto his braced legs, and—for the first time in twelve years—stepped out from behind the mahogany desk.
His legs shook violently. The steel braces groaned under the strain, and every nerve ending in his lower body felt like it was burning in a furnace. But he took one step forward. Then a second.
He walked across the shattered floorboards, his boots clicking rhythmically against the wood, stopping right in front of where Marcus lay groaning against the bookshelf.
Marcus looked up, his eyes wide with absolute terror as he stared at the man he thought was permanently crippled.
"You... you can walk," Marcus choked out, blood leaking between his fingers.
"I told you, Marcus," Luca said, his voice cold as an arctic wind, looking down at the traitor from his full height. "Parasites only thrive when the host is asleep. And I am wide awake."
Marcus opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter another word, the estate’s head of private security—now back under Luca’s command—stepped forward, slapping heavy steel handcuffs onto Marcus’s wrists and hauling him to his feet.
"Take him to the basement vault," Luca commanded without looking back. "Lock him in. And make sure the federal prosecutor on retainer gets all of Marcus’s digital ledgers by morning."
"Yes, Boss," the guard muttered, dragging the screaming, bleeding traitor out of the room.
May you like
The study fell silent once more. Luca stood alone in the wreckage, his chest heaving, his legs trembling from the monumental effort of supporting his own weight. He closed his eyes, leaning against the stone fireplace for support, feeling the fierce, undeniable rush of life returning to limbs that had been buried alive for a decade.
He had won the battle for his empire. But the true test was waiting outside.
