Chapter 7 - The Hunt for Norah
The basement of the Costa estate was bathed in harsh fluorescent light, smelling of copper and wet concrete. Tied to an iron chair in the center of the room was one of Salvatore’s surviving conspirators, battered and bloody.
Roman stood before him, drenched in rain and splattered with blood. He had discarded his torn tuxedo jacket; his white shirt was soaked crimson, his eyes empty of any humanity. He looked like the devil incarnate. Marco stood nearby, holding an array of tactical maps and phone intercepts, looking deeply troubled.
""I’m only going to ask you once more,"" Roman said, his voice terrifyingly quiet. He didn't scream. He didn't shout. That was the most frightening thing about Roman Costa. ""Where did Salvatore take her?""
""Go to hell, Costa,"" the man spat, blood dripping from his split lip. ""Moretti’s got her at the old refinery by the river. By now, the old man has probably had his fun with your little maid. You’re too late.""
A sickening crunch echoed through the basement. Roman didn't even blink as he broke the man’s jaw with a single, vicious strike. He stepped back, wiping his knuckles with a white handkerchief.
""Assemble every soldier we have,"" Roman commanded Marco, his voice flat, devoid of emotion, yet burning with apocalyptic fury. ""Call the crews from Brooklyn, Queens, and New Jersey. Bring every weapon we have in the warehouse. We aren't negotiating. We aren't taking prisoners. We are going to wipe the Moretti bloodline off the face of this earth.""
""Boss,"" Marco cautioned quietly. ""Attacking the Moretti stronghold head-on... the Commission will consider it an unsanctioned war. Every family in the country will turn against us.""
Roman turned his cold, pitiless gaze upon his most loyal lieutenant. ""I don't give a damn about the Commission. I don't give a damn about the families. If they want to stand between me and Norah, they can join Moretti in the dirt. Move out.""
Meanwhile, forty miles away inside an abandoned industrial refinery on the edge of the Hudson River, Norah was tied to a rusted steel pillar. Her emerald dress was torn and stained with soot. A stinging bruise bloomed across her cheek where Salvatore had struck her when she fought back.
Footsteps echoed along the catwalks above. Vincent Moretti walked down the iron staircase, leaning on a cane, accompanied by Salvatore and four heavily armed guards.
""Look at you,"" Moretti sneered, tapping the tip of his cane against Norah’s bare knee. ""The great Roman Costa threw away his empire and started a war for a common maid. Your father would be laughing in his grave knowing his little girl caused the fall of the Costa syndicate.""
Norah lifted her head. Despite the pain, despite the terror gripping her soul, she refused to cower. Roman’s fierce strength seemed to echo in her veins. She spat blood at Moretti’s polished shoes.
""Roman is coming for you,"" Norah whispered with chilling certainty, her eyes flashing with defiance. ""And when he gets here, there won't be enough left of you to bury.""
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Moretti wiped his shoe with a scowl, raising his cane to strike her. ""We’ll see about that, little—""
Before the cane could fall, the entire eastern wall of the refinery blew inward with a deafening explosion of fire and concrete.
