Chapter 19 - The Voice of Authority
*“Getta l'armi, infedele. Sei circondato dai veri figli della terra,”* Tessa’s voice resonated through the dark speakers, dripping with ancient, crushing authority. (*Drop your weapons, traitor. You are surrounded by the true children of the soil.*)
To Marco’s mercenaries, the psychological blow was devastating. Raised on the folklore and strict codes of the old Sicilian underworld, hearing that specific, uncompromised dialect echoing from the dark felt like being judged by the ghosts of their ancestors. Panic rippled through the ranks. Several mercenaries dropped their weapons onto the concrete with echoing clatters, raising their hands in total surrender.
“Don’t listen to her! Shoot at the shadows!” Marco screamed frantically, firing blindly toward the catwalks.
A single, crisp crack of a suppressed rifle echoed through the warehouse. The bullet grazed Marco’s shoulder, spinning him around and knocking his weapon spinning across the floor.
The emergency backup lights flooded the room with stark white illumination.
Gabriel stepped forward, pinning Marco to the ground with the toe of his shoe before the desperate man could reach his fallen gun. From the stairwell, Tessa descended calmly, her emerald gown sweeping past the stacked crates, her dark eyes completely devoid of fear.
Marco looked up from the floor, panting and terrified, staring at the woman he had underestimated. “Who... what are you?” he choked out.
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“I’m the person who cleans house,” Tessa replied coldly in English, before turning her back on him as Gabriel’s security detail moved in to secure the prisoners.
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