Chapter 6 - The Long Island Bloodbath
That night, Long Island burned.
Leaving fifty armed guards to secure the estate, I personally led twenty of my most ruthless men into the city. We didn't call the police. We didn't negotiate.
We struck Moretti’s private compound in the Hamptons at 2:00 AM. We breached the iron gates with armored trucks, throwing flashbangs through the front windows. The firefight was brutal, short, and absolute. Moretti’s men were cut down in the courtyard, their weapons useless against my vengeful assault.
I kicked open the heavy double doors of Moretti’s private office.
Dominic Moretti, an elderly man with silver hair and a terrified face, sat behind his mahogany desk, holding a shaking revolver. “Lorenzo... wait!” he begged, pressing himself against his leather chair. “It was business! You ruined my empire!”
I walked across the room, ignoring the bullet he fired that grazed my shoulder. I grabbed him by his neck, lifted him out of his chair, and slammed him onto the desk.
“You killed my wife, Dominic,” I whispered, leaning down until my eyes were inches from his. “I let you live because I was grieving. But then you tried to kill my son. You tried to destroy the innocent woman who saved him.”
“Please—”
May you like
I snapped his neck with a cold, swift motion.
By sunrise, every asset owned by the Moretti family was seized, destroyed, or burned to the ground. The threat that had haunted my family, killed my wife, and poisoned my son was completely erased from existence. But as I rode back to the estate in the back of my SUV, bleeding from my shoulder, I realized that the real battle was waiting for me at home: saving the woman who had lost her faith in herself.
