Chapter 7 - The Alpha Arrives
Isabella backed into the rotting wooden interior of the boathouse, her breath coming in ragged, painful gasps. Sophie was shivering, her tiny face flushed red, crying in weak, exhausted hiccups. There was nowhere left to run; the dark, freezing waters of Lake Michigan lapped against the pilings behind them. Isabella picked up a rusted iron pipe from the floor, holding it with trembling hands, prepared to fight to her last breath.
The boathouse door was kicked off its rusted hinges, crashing inward.
Victor Castillo stepped into the opening, a cruel smirk playing on his thin lips as he aimed his pistol directly at Isabella’s chest. "Smart girl. You ran all the way from Lake Geneva just to die in an abandoned shack. Did you really think Alessandro Moretti loved you? You were just an alibi, darling. A sweet little hotel maid he used to distract himself while his brother burned."
"She was never an alibi, Victor."
The voice came not from within the room, but from the darkness behind Castillo.
Castillo barely had time to turn before a gloved hand grabbed the collar of his expensive coat, hurling him violently across the wooden deck. Alessandro Moretti stepped into the doorway like an avenging demon from hell. His tailored black suit was covered in melted snow, his white shirt stained with crimson at the shoulder, and his eyes burned with an animalistic fury that froze Castillo in his tracks.
Behind Alessandro, eight Moretti commandos fanned out across the beach, neutralizing Castillo’s remaining men with ruthless, surgical precision. Marco stood near the entrance, a smoking rifle in his hands, guarding the perimeter.
Castillo scrambled backward across the floorboards, raising his weapon with shaking hands. "Alessandro! Wait! It was Dominic’s idea! Your uncle wanted the line severed! He told me—"
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Alessandro didn't let him finish. In one blindingly fast motion, he closed the distance, kicking the pistol from Castillo’s grip with a sickening snap of bone. Before Castillo could scream, Alessandro drove him down against the rotting wood, pressing the cold steel of his own custom Kimber .45 against the center of Castillo’s forehead.
"You threatened my daughter," Alessandro whispered, his voice trembling with a rage so profound that the entire room seemed to vibrate with it. "You made her mother run through the snow. For that, Victor, there is no negotiation."
