Chapter 8 - The Wrath Of The Don
Before Marcus Hayes could comprehend the words, the stained-glass rose window above the altar exploded inward in a shower of colored glass.
Four black-clad tactical operators descended on fast-ropes from the cathedral rafters, opening up with silenced, fully automatic fire. Marcus Hayes took three rounds to the chest before his body even hit the marble floor. His personal security team scrambled in utter panic as crossfire erupted from the second-story choir loft.
Salvatore Rossi—the powerful head of the New York syndicate—stepped out from the shadowy alcove behind the organ, flanked by eight elite heavy-gunners.
""Did you really think Dante wouldn't have an emergency dead-man protocol?"" Rossi's deep, gravelly voice thundered through the chapel. ""Dante wired fifty million dollars to my security account three hours ago when Victoria Hayes made her first mistake in his sitting room. The Five Families don't tolerate brother-killers, Luca.""
Pandemonium consumed the sanctuary. Dante didn't wait for the gunfire to settle. He surged forward across the marble floor like a wounded lion, slamming his shoulder into Luca before his brother could raise his weapon. Both men crashed through the communion railing, tumbling down the chancel steps into a tangle of fists and steel.
Luca scrambled across the floor, drawing a serrated trench knife from his belt. He lunged with wild, rabid desperation, slashing across Dante’s forearm. ""You took everything from me! You were always the favorite!""
""You had everything a brother could ask for!"" Dante roared, blocking the blade with his forearms and driving a vicious headbutt directly into Luca's scarred face. The cartilage in Luca's nose shattered with a loud crack, spraying blood across Dante’s face.
Luca staggered backward, swinging blindly. Dante ducked beneath the blow, driving his combat knife upward beneath Luca’s collarbone with brutal, lethal efficiency.
Luca froze, his eyes bulging in absolute shock. The weapon slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the blood-soaked marble floor. He looked down at the steel buried in his chest, then up into the cold, sorrowful eyes of his older brother.
""Why...?"" Luca choked out, dark blood bubbling on his lips.
""Because you threatened my wife and child,"" Dante whispered in his ear, his voice breaking with profound grief. ""Rest now, Luca. The war is over.""
Dante lowered his brother’s lifeless body to the chapel floor as the final echoes of gunfire died away. The entire mercenary strike team lay neutralized across the sanctuary. Salvatore Rossi walked down the center aisle, stepping over Marcus Hayes' corpse, and placed a heavy, respectful hand on Dante’s trembling shoulder.
""The city is secure, Dante,"" Rossi said softly. ""The Hayes syndicate has been dismantled. But you need medical attention immediately.""
""Where is Victoria?"" Dante demanded through ragged breaths, looking around the carnage.
""She tried to escape through the courtyard gate during the breach,"" Rossi replied, gesturing toward the open double doors. ""My perimeter team apprehended her. She’s locked in the transport van outside.""
Dante closed his eyes, leaning against a stone pillar. ""Keep her alive. She will face justice in front of the Commission.""
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Suddenly, the heavy wooden door beneath the choir loft creaked open. Dante spun around, his hand instinctively reaching for a weapon—until he saw Marco helping Elena into the chapel. Wrapped in a warm wool blanket, Elena carried their newborn daughter cradled tightly against her chest.
Dante’s knees gave out. He fell onto his good knee in the center of the sanctuary aisle, tears washing clean paths through the blood and soot on his face. Elena walked slowly down the long aisle toward him, surrounded by the towering marble statues and the silent protection of Rossi's men.
