Chapter 6 - Judgment in the Hallway
The foyer was unrecognizable. The antique crystal chandelier had crashed to the floor, spreading glass diamonds across the bloodstained marble. Anton stood in the center of the destruction, smelling of cordite and burning wood, accompanied by two surviving gunmen who kept their weapons trained on the upper landing.
When they saw me descending the stairs alone, step by step, the two gunmen hesitated. Even amid the smoke, my reputation preceded me.
"Drop your weapons and leave," I said, my voice echoing off the scorched walls without a tremor of fear. "Your boss is already indicted. Anton is dead weight. If you walk out the front gates right now, I will let you live."
The two mercenaries looked at each other, evaluated the bodies littered across the driveway, dropped their submachine guns onto the marble, and fled into the rain without looking back.
Anton cursed, raising his shotgun toward my chest. "Traitorous dogs! I don't need them to rip your throat out, Gabriel!"
Before his finger could apply pressure to the heavy trigger, I fired two precise rounds into his right shoulder and knee. The massive enforcer roared in agony, dropping the shotgun as his leg gave out, collapsing onto his good knee in the center of the ruined foyer.
I closed the distance between us, kicking the shotgun across the floor until it slid into the shadows of the dining room. I raised my weapon, leveling the barrel directly between Anton’s eyes.
Thirty years of underworld conditioning screamed at me to pull the trigger. In the code of the Boston syndicate, an enemy who breached your home must not leave breathing. Salvatore would receive the message, the streets would remain quiet, and my power would be reaffirmed in blood.
My finger tightened around the trigger.
Then, my foot brushed against something lying on the floor among the shattered crystals.
A crumpled, half-burned scrap of blue construction paper, trimmed with safety scissors.
Elsie’s star had fallen from my pocket during the descent.
My hand froze.
If I executed this man on the marble floor right above the cellar where that little girl was hiding, I would become the very monster who had destroyed my sister Sophia thirty years ago. I would teach Elsie that the world only understood violence, that her paper stars were meaningless toys in the face of ruthless men.
I slowly lowered the weapon.
May you like
Anton looked up, coughing blood, his eyes wide in disbelief. "What... what are you waiting for, Rinaldi? Shoot me!"
"No, Anton," I said, my voice dropping into a cold, unbreakable register. "Death is too clean for you. You’re going to sit on this floor until the federal marshals arrive to drag you into a concrete cell for the rest of your life."
