Chapter 6 - Betrayal in Silk and Pearls
The rain had escalated into a torrential downpour, hammering against the leaded glass windows of the Moretti estate like a thousand frantic fists. Down in the sunken courtyard, surrounded on three sides by towering stone walls and wrought-iron balconies, three black SUVs rolled forward with their headlights extinguished.
Marco Vitelli stepped out of the lead vehicle. He was a broad, heavy-set man in a charcoal wool trench coat, his greased hair slicked back against his skull. He held a suppressed submachine gun loosely against his thigh, chewing on an unlit cigar.
"Spread out," Marco barked in a rough whisper to the twelve armed men flanking him. "Julianna said the back entrance is clear. Two men on the patio, four upstairs to verify Dante’s corpse, the rest secure the vault in the cellar. Let's make this quick before the CPD gets brave."
The men fanned out across the flagstones, their tactical boots splashing in the pooling rainwater. They approached the heavy double doors leading into the conservatory.
Suddenly, four industrial floodlights mounted along the roofline exploded into life, bathing the courtyard in blinding, incandescent white light.
Marco hissed, throwing an arm up to shield his eyes. "What the hell—"
"You're late, Marco," a voice called out from the darkness above.
Standing on the second-floor stone balcony, perfectly shielded by the ornate balustrade, stood Dante Moretti. He had traded his tailored suit jacket for a dark tactical vest. Beside him stood six of his senior lieutenants, their rifles trained directly on the cluster of men trapped in the center of the walled patio.
Marco dropped his cigar, his face twisting into a feral mask of rage. "Julianna! Where is that stupid bitch?"
"Julianna is currently locked in my closet waiting for the police," Dante shouted down over the roar of the downpour. "It turns out she was an amateur, Marco. Just like you."
"Kill him!" Marco screamed, raising his weapon toward the balcony.
Gunfire erupted, shattering the midnight silence of the affluent neighborhood. Muzzle flashes strobed violently against the limestone walls. But the Vitelli men were caught in a lethal kill box. Trapped on the open flagstones, with water rising to their ankles and high stone walls behind them, they had no cover.
Dante didn't flinch as rounds chipped chunks of limestone off the parapet inches above his head. He fired two controlled shots from his rifle, dropping Marco’s primary lieutenant who was attempting to flank toward the kitchen entrance.
"Down! Everybody down!" Marco roared, scrambling behind the engine block of his SUV as bullets tore through the windshield and shredded the tires. "Fall back to the main gates! Drive! Drive!"
The driver of the second SUV slammed the vehicle into reverse, but an iron security portcullis slammed down across the exit archway with a deafening crash, sealing the driveway. Sparks showered into the air as the SUV’s rear bumper collided with the reinforced steel bars.
Trapped. Completely cut off.
From the balconies and side alcoves, Dante’s security force moved forward with surgical precision. Within four minutes of chaotic fire, seven of Marco’s men were disarmed and pinned against the wet stones, while the rest threw their weapons into the courtyard fountain, hands raised high in surrender.
Marco Vitelli remained crouched behind the bullet-riddled chassis of his SUV, his breath coming in ragged, terrified gasps. The silence that followed the gunfire was suffocating, broken only by the hiss of steam rising from a punctured radiator and the relentless rhythm of the rain.
Heavy, measured footsteps splashed through the water, coming toward him.
Marco peeked around the front tire, raising his sidearm with trembling fingers. Before he could acquire a target, a heavy boot kicked the gun from his grip, sending it skittering across the flagstones.
Marco looked up into the barrel of Dante’s Colt .45.
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"You... you can't kill me, Dante," Marco stammered, blood dripping from a shrapnel cut on his cheek. "The Commission... the other families... they won't allow a war over a woman!"
"This isn't a war over a woman," Dante said softly, the rain plastering his dark hair to his forehead. "This is an eviction notice."
