Chapter 9 - The Wrath of the Don
Dominic Moretti didn't walk out of the elevator. He moved like a storm.
Before Falcone's men could even swing their rifles around, Dominic fired three rapid shots from his heavy custom pistol—
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The two guards standing near the entrance fell instantly, their weapons dropping against the floor. Dominic moved through the smoke with terrifying speed, firing with surgical precision.
Marco and six Moretti enforcers poured into the room behind him, laying down a wall of suppressed fire that forced the remaining mercenaries back toward the executive windows.
Falcone gasped, dropping Lily to the floor and pulling his own revolver, aiming it straight at Elena's head.
"Stop right there, Dominic!" Falcone roared, his scar turning bright red. "Take one more step and I blow her brains across this window!"
The firing instantly ceased. The room fell into a suffocating, lethal silence, broken only by the sound of snow whipping against the cracked glass windows.
Dominic stood ten feet away. His suit was splattered with blood, his dark eyes hollowed out by an absolute, demonic fury that no man in that room had ever witnessed before.
He looked at Elena, who was bleeding slightly from a scrape on her cheek, staring back at him with fierce trust. Then he looked at Lily, who was sitting on the floor, shivering with fear.
"Put the gun down, Donato," Dominic said, his voice dropping so low it felt like a vibration in the floorboards.
"You think you own me, boy?!" Falcone sneered, tightening his grip on the revolver pressed against Elena's temple. "Your father was too weak to finish me, and you are too soft! You let a woman and a child into your life! They made you weak!"
"They didn't make me weak, Donato," Dominic said softly.
He slowly reached into his vest pocket, pulling out his grandfather's silver pocket watch. He held it out in his left hand, opening the hatch with a loud, distinct click.
"They gave me something to fight for," Dominic declared.
In that fraction of a second—the exact moment Falcone's eyes darted down to look at the gleaming silver watch in Dominic's palm—Dominic acted.
He dropped to one knee, pulled a second concealed weapon from his ankle holster, and fired a single shot straight up through the bottom of the glass desk—
THUD!
The bullet shattered the heavy wood, passing through Falcone's wrist.
Falcone screamed in agony, dropping his revolver as his hand went limp. Elena immediately kicked herself backward, grabbing Lily and pulling her into her arms under the main desk.
Before Falcone could even fall to his knees, Dominic was across the room. He grabbed Falcone by his throat, slamming his massive body against the thick floor-to-ceiling glass window with enough force to send spiderweb cracks spreading across the glass.
"Dominic... please..." Falcone choked out, staring into eyes that held no mercy left.
"You came into my city," Dominic whispered into the old man's ear. "You laid hands on my family. And you threatened my child."
Dominic leaned forward, his voice like cold iron. "The Moretti family doesn't hide behind blood anymore, Donato. We are the blood."
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Dominic stepped back and nodded once to Marco.
Two guards stepped forward, grabbing Falcone by his shoulders and dragging him out toward the waiting elevator, leaving the old Sicilian tyrant begging for his life in the dark hall.
