Chapter 18 - Ash and Judgment
The crackle of burning oak and the sharp, suffocating stench of smoke filled the vast foyer as Luca and I descended the curved marble stairs side by side. Marcus covered the rear exits, his rifle trained on the smoking doorways to ensure no remaining mercenaries remained standing. The battle for the Rossi estate was over, leaving only the dying patriarch of a ruined dynasty standing in the ashes of his own hatred.
Salvatore Moretti wheezed, his breath coming in ragged, rattling gasps as he looked from Luca to me. The snub-nosed revolver in his hand shook violently, the barrel wandering across the marble floor.
"You... you took everything from me," Salvatore choked out, spit flying from his twisted mouth as he glared at me. "David was my blood! My eldest son! He should have ruled this city! He threw it all away for some common whore from Brooklyn, and now her bastard child holds the keys to my kingdom!"
"My mother was an honorable woman who spent her life caring for others," I said, walking down the final three steps and stopping just ten feet away from the trembling old man. My voice was steady, free of fear, filled only with cold pity. "She lived with empty pockets, but she died with a clean conscience. That is something you will never understand, Salvatore."
"Shut your mouth!" Salvatore shrieked, lifting the revolver with both hands and pointing the barrel directly between my eyes. "I will extinguish David’s line right now! I will wipe your name from the earth!"
He pulled the hammer back with a heavy metallic click.
Before he could pull the trigger, Luca moved with blinding speed. Disregarding the searing pain in his recovering shoulder, Luca closed the distance, grabbed Salvatore’s wrist, and twisted it upward with bone-snapping force. The gun discharged uselessly into the high vaulted ceiling, shattering a crystal chandelier that rained down in harmless fragments.
Luca stripped the weapon from Salvatore’s frail fingers, tossing it across the floor into the flames, and shoved the old man hard against the heavy marble base of the foyer fountain. Salvatore collapsed into the shallow water, coughing violently as the cold liquid soaked his designer suit.
Luca stood over him, his dark eyes looking down not with anger, but with chilling, absolute indifference.
"You're pathetic, Salvatore," Luca said softly. "You came here expecting a glorious bloodbath to avenge your pride, but you're just a broken old criminal dying of spite in two inches of water."
Salvatore gasped for air, his hand clawing at his chest as the physical strain of the escape and the siege finally triggered another massive coronary event. His face turned deep purple, his eyes bulging as he clutched at Luca’s trouser leg. "Shoot me... end it, Rossi... have the stomach to kill an old man..."
"No," Luca replied coldly, stepping back and pulling his leg away from Salvatore's dying grip. "I am not your executioner. The law is."
Through the shattered front entrance, the flashing red and blue lights of fifty federal and state law enforcement vehicles illuminated the thick smoke. The deafening wail of sirens echoed across the river valley, accompanied by the thrum of tactical helicopters circling overhead.
Marcus walked over, standing beside Luca. "Federal SWAT has breached the southern gate, Boss. Assistant Director Vance from the organized crime division is leading the convoy. We handed over the perimeter surveillance footage proving Moretti’s assault ten minutes ago."
Salvatore’s head fell back against the stone rim of the fountain, his ragged breathing slowing to a faint, stuttering rattle as federal tactical agents swarmed through the shattered doors with shields and rifles raised. The reign of the Moretti syndicate had officially ended, not with an empire won, but with its founder dying in handcuffs under the harsh glare of emergency floodlights.
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Luca turned away from the dying don and looked at me. His shirt was torn, soot covered his sharp cheekbones, and fresh blood stained his left sleeve, but when his eyes met mine, the darkness in them finally died.
He held out his uninjured right hand. I took it without hesitation, letting him pull me tight against his chest as the first rays of the morning sun began to pierce the smoke, illuminating the new day rising over New York.
