He Publicly Humiliated Me In Front Of High Society—Until I Revealed The One Secret That Could Destroy His Entire Mafia Empire

Together, Gio and Isadora sprinted through the smoke-filled archways toward the helipad.

The helicopter’s rotors were already spinning, whipping up a violent gale that flattened the grass and sent spray flying from the sea below. Moretti and Arturo were scrambling up the metal stairs of the aircraft.

Moretti turned at the top of the stairs, raising an assault rifle to spray the lawn.

Isadora didn't hesitate. She dropped to one knee, stabilized her breathing, aligned her sights through the whipping wind, and pulled the trigger twice.

Both bullets struck Moretti in the shoulder and knee. He screamed, tumbling down the metal stairs and collapsing onto the concrete pad in agony.

Arturo panicked. He shoved the pilot, screaming, “Take off! Take off now!”

The helicopter began to lift off the ground, rising three feet, four feet...

Gio sprinted across the pad with the terrifying speed of a hunting predator. He launched himself into the air, his fingers catching the helicopter’s landing skid. The sheer strength of his upper body pulled him upward as the aircraft rose ten feet above the cliff edge.

“Gio!” Isadora cried out, sprinting toward the edge.

Hanging with one hand, Gio drew his spare sidearm with the other and shot out the tail rotor gearbox. Sparks and black smoke exploded from the rear.

The helicopter spun violently out of control, the pilot frantically cutting the engines to perform an emergency autorotation. The aircraft slammed back down onto the grass pad with a deafening crunch, skidding to a halt three feet from the cliff precipice.

The side door slid open. Arturo tumbled out onto the grass, coughing blood, clutching a broken arm.

He looked up to see Gio standing over him like an archangel of death, the rain and wind whipping his dark hair, his gun lowered directly at Arturo’s head.

“Please, Giovanni...” Arturo wept, crawling backward until his shoes hung over the two-hundred-foot drop into the raging sea. “I’m your blood! I’m your father’s brother!”

Gio looked down at him with eyes devoid of any mercy, any warmth, any humanity.

“My father had no brother,” Gio said, his voice dropping into a lethal, quiet whisper. “Only a parasite who mistook mercy for weakness.”

Gio stepped on Arturo’s good hand, pinning it to the rock. He leaned down close enough for Arturo to see his own terrified reflection in Gio’s dark eyes.

“My father’s last words were Sanguis Ante Omnia,” Gio whispered. “And you spilled the wrong blood.”