Chapter 8 - The Viper's Last Strike
Though Gianni had fled like a coward, the Moretti family was desperate. Their territory was shrinking, and Don Moretti—an aging, ruthless mob chief—viewed the Rossi family’s presence on Maple Street as an insult he could not tolerate.
Two weeks after the incident at the diner, Don Moretti decided to strike where it hurt most.
It was a sunny Saturday morning, and the diner was packed with local families, children eating pancakes, and older couples drinking coffee. Nonna Maria was sitting in her favorite corner booth, enjoying a bowl of fresh fruit, accompanied by her loyal bodyguard, a quiet giant named Marco.
Outside, the street was bustling.
Suddenly, a heavy black delivery van screeched to a halt right in front of the diner's large display window. The side doors slid open with a violent slam.
Four masked men armed with automatic rifles leaped out of the vehicle.
Inside the diner, Marco’s instincts kicked in instantly. "Down! Everyone down!" he roared, drawing his weapon and throwing his massive body over Nonna Maria to shield her.
Screams erupted through the diner as customers scrambled under tables, dropping plates and knocking over chairs. Anna ducked behind the heavy steel counter just as the glass front windows shattered into a million exploding shards.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
The deafening roar of gunfire shattered the morning peace. Bullets ripped through the wooden frames, tearing into the ceiling and pulverizing the plaster walls.
Marco returned fire through the shattered window, his powerful handgun echoing in the enclosed space, driving two of the shooters back toward their van.
"Anna! Stay down!" Marco shouted over the chaos.
Inside the van, the driver revved the engine, aiming the heavy vehicle directly at the diner’s front wall, intending to plow through the building and flatten everything inside.
The van surged forward, mounting the sidewalk, its heavy bumper crushing the outdoor tables.
Anna looked up from behind the counter. She saw Nonna Maria huddled under the booth, terrified, her hands over her ears. She saw families cowering under tables.
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If that van hit the building, people would die.
Without thinking about her own safety, Anna grabbed a heavy iron cast skillet from the kitchen counter, vaulted over the serving hatch, and ran toward the shattered window just as the van’s grill smashed into the brick doorway.
