Chapter 12 - Midnight at the Manor: Caught in the Act
At 11:00 PM, a convoy of four black SUVs pulled up to Antonio Falcone’s heavily fortified warehouse near the Port of Atlanta.
Inside the warehouse office, Antonio Falcone was pouring himself a glass of expensive cognac, grinning as he looked at a forged signature document that would transfer Moretti’s shipping lines to his dummy corporations.
The office door opened, and Elena walked in, wearing a long trench coat, her head down.
“Elena!” Falcone laughed boisterously, raising his glass. “Is it done? Is Moretti’s brat finished?”
Elena didn't answer. She stood trembling by the doorway.
Falcone’s smile faded, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Elena? What’s wrong with you?”
Elena slowly stepped aside.
Walking through the doorway behind her was Vincent Moretti, flanked by Marco and twelve heavily armed enforcers carrying automatic weapons.
Falcone dropped his glass of cognac. It shattered on the concrete floor.
“Falcone,” I said quietly, stepping into the dim light of the warehouse office. “I believe you were waiting for my death.”
Falcone lunged for the drawer of his desk, reaching for his firearm, but Marco was faster. A single, suppressed shot rang out, blowing Falcone’s right hand off the desk in a spray of blood.
Falcone screamed in agony, collapsing against his leather chair, clutching his shattered wrist. “Moretti! Wait! We can make a deal! We can split the territory fifty-fifty!”
“You broke the only rule that mattered,” I said, walking up to his desk and placing my hands flat on the mahogany surface. “You brought my child into this.”
“Vincent, please!” Falcone begged, hyperventilating on the floor. “Take everything! Take the docks! Take the accounts!”
“I already took them an hour ago,” I replied coldly. “Your captains surrendered. Your offshore accounts have been wiped. You have nothing left in this city, Antonio. Not even your life.”
I turned to Marco. “Clean this room. Burn the warehouse to the ground. Leave no trace.”
May you like
“With pleasure, Boss,” Marco smiled.
As I turned and walked out of the warehouse, the heavy iron doors sealed shut behind me, followed by the muffled, frantic screams of men who had finally run out of time.
