Chapter 9 - Marked by the Enemy and the Wrath of Enzo
The battle at Pier 42 was short, brutal, and decisive. Enzo’s men, equipped with night-vision scopes, outflanked Marcone’s forces before they could form a defensive line.
Voronin’s Russian guards surrendered within minutes, realizing they had been walked into a slaughter. Don Marcone was pinned behind a forklift, his weapon knocked away by Frankie.
Sal, however, fled into the labyrinth of shipping containers, clutching a briefcase containing five million dollars in bearer bonds.
Khloe monitored the heat sensors on her screen. “Enzo, Sal is heading toward the north exit near the drainage canal!”
Enzo intercepted Sal just as the traitor reached the security gate. Sal raised his revolver with a wild, desperate scream, but Enzo was faster. A single shot shattered Sal's wrist, sending the gun clattering onto the wet gravel.
Sal fell to his knees, clutching his bleeding arm. “Enzo... please! It was Marcone! He forced my hand!”
Enzo stood over him, the rain washing the gunpowder residue from his skin. “You broke bread at my table, Sal. You threatened my people. And you sold our family to the Russians.”
“I made you what you are!” Sal spat, his cowardice turning to venom. “And that waitress—she's nothing! A filthy gutter girl!”
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Enzo’s expression went completely dead. He lowered the barrel of his weapon until it rested against Sal’s forehead. “Her name is Khloe. And she has more honor in her little finger than you had in your entire miserable life.”
A single shot echoed across the harbor. The betrayal of Sal had ended.
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