Chapter 10 - Blood Against Blood
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The two mafia titans stood ten feet apart, surrounded by the wreckage of chandeliers, shattered glass, and fallen soldiers.
Outside, the violent thunderstorm reached its peak, flashes of blue lightning illuminating the blood-spattered room through the blasted doorways.
Vanessa was whimpering in the corner, holding her bloody shoulder, completely ignored by both men.
"You always were faster than your old man," Falcone admitted, circling slowly to the left with his gun held high.
"Carmine hesitated when he had the drop on me, and that softness cost him his life."
"My father wasn't soft, Falcone," Luca snarled, circling in rhythm, his weapon locked on Falcone’s forehead.
"He was honorable, something a backstabbing rat like you could never understand."
Falcone suddenly lunged forward, firing two rapid shots that whizzed past Luca’s ear, splintering the mahogany doorframe behind him.
Luca returned fire, his bullet grazing Falcone’s left shoulder, causing the older mobster to grunt and stagger backward.
Before Luca could fire the finishing round, his slide locked back with a dry, metallic click—his magazine was completely empty.
Falcone saw the empty chamber and a triumphant, manic grin split across his scarred face.
He dropped his own smoking gun, pulled a six-inch combat dagger from his boot, and charged Luca with terrifying speed.
Luca dodged the first wicked slash, but the tip of the blade tore through his dress shirt, opening a shallow gash across his ribs.
Ignoring the burning pain, Luca caught Falcone’s wrist with his left hand, locking him in a brutal test of raw physical strength.
The two men slammed against the grand marble staircase, their heavy breathing echoing through the ruined hall.
Falcone was twenty years older, but his muscles were hardened by decades of surviving in ruthless South American underworlds.
He slammed his forehead violently into Luca’s face, breaking Luca’s nose in a sickening spray of crimson.
Luca stumbled backward, his vision swimming with stars, his footing slipping on the slick, wet marble tiles.
Falcone capitalized on the opening instantly, tackling Luca to the floor and driving his knee deep into Luca’s wounded side.
Luca gasped for air as Falcone pinned his right arm down and raised the gleaming steel dagger high above his chest.
"Say hello to your father in hell for me, boy!" Falcone roared, putting the full force of his weight behind the downward strike.
Down in the bunker, Rosa watched the monitor with a mother's instinct that defied all logic and physical age.
"Open the door, Claire!" Rosa commanded, rising from the sofa with authority that admitted no argument.
"Mrs. Rosa, no, it's too dangerous!" I cried, terrified for her safety.
"Open that door right now, child, or I will die down here watching my son bleed!" she shouted.
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Seeing the absolute fire in her eyes, I punched the emergency override code and grabbed a heavy steel fire extinguisher from the wall.
We bolted up the hidden stairs and through the bedroom door, racing straight toward the sounds of violence in the foyer.
