Chapter 8 - The Ghost Walks In
|
Falcone's arrogant voice cut through the lingering smoke of the foyer like a sharpened razor blade.
Luca stepped out from behind the scarred marble column on the landing, blood dripping from a cut above his left eyebrow.
He lowered his empty shotgun and drew his twin semi-automatic handguns, holding them steadily aimed at Falcone’s chest.
"You should have stayed dead in Colombia, Salvatore," Luca called down, his tone devoid of any fear.
Falcone chuckled softly, pulling an expensive gold cigarette case from his pocket and flicking open a lighter.
"And leave my hard-earned empire to Carmine's soft-hearted brat?" Falcone replied, blowing a thick plume of smoke toward the ceiling.
"Your father was a sentimental fool, Luca."
"He thought honor and loyalty could keep a family fed, while I understood that fear is the only currency that matters."
"I let you build this city up for twenty years so I could take it back when it was ripe for harvesting."
Suddenly, the side door leading to the basement stairs creaked open, drawing everyone’s attention away from the standoff.
Vanessa stumbled into the foyer, having somehow slipped away from her guard during the confusion of the initial breach.
Her hair was disheveled, her dress was torn, and she looked utterly wild-eyed with manic desperation.
"Salvatore!" Vanessa shrieked, sprinting toward the mob boss like a drowning woman reaching for a life raft.
"You came for me!"
"Luca knows everything; he had his men lock me in the basement and he threatened my father!"
Falcone didn't move an inch as Vanessa threw herself at his feet, clutching the hem of his cashmere coat.
"Kill him, Salvatore!" she sobbed hysterically, pointing a trembling finger up at Luca on the mezzanine.
"Shoot him right now and let’s take the private jet to Switzerland like you promised me in the texts!"
Luca watched the spectacle from above, his expression completely blank, not offering a single word to stop her.
Down in the security bunker, Rosa leaned forward, gasping at the screen as she watched her daughter-in-law grovel.
"The poor, foolish girl," Rosa murmured with genuine sorrow.
"She doesn't know who she is dealing with."
Falcone slowly looked down at Vanessa, his smile fading into an expression of sheer, unadulterated disgust.
He reached down and pinched her chin between his gloved fingers, forcing her to look up into his cold, dead eyes.
"Did you think a cheap, disloyal little traitor like you was actually part of my future, Vanessa?" Falcone asked softly.
Vanessa’s frantic babbling stopped instantly, her pupils dilating in sudden, overwhelming horror.
"What... what are you saying?" she whispered, her voice cracking.
May you like
"A woman who would betray her husband and abuse an eighty-two-year-old saint for vanity cannot be trusted with a single dollar," Falcone sneered.
Without warning, Falcone drew a silver pistol from his waistband and pressed the barrel directly against her collarbone.
