Chapter 18 - The Dead Man Walking
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The interior of the warehouse was massive and echoing, filled with stacks of wooden pallets and rotting wooden crates. In the center of the vast space, an old office module sat elevated on a steel platform, its yellow light illuminating the dust dancing in the air.
Luca moved silently through the maze of crates, his weapon raised, his finger resting lightly against the trigger.
From the elevated office, a confident, booming voice echoed down into the warehouse.
“You took your sweet time, Vanessa,” Dante Rossi called out, the sound of a glass clinking against a bottle accompanying his words. “I was starting to think you lost your nerve at the last minute.”
Luca stepped out from behind a stack of crates, entering the pool of yellow light cast from the office above. He didn't say a word. He simply stared up at the doorway.
Footsteps approached the edge of the platform. Dante stepped out of the office, holding a glass of scotch, a triumphant grin plastered across his rugged, scarred face.
He looked down, expecting to see a beautiful blonde woman in a red evening gown.
Instead, he looked directly into the dark, murderous eyes of the man he had betrayed.
Dante’s glass slipped from his fingers, shattering violently against the steel grate of the platform. The scotch rained down into the darkness below. His face turned a sickly, ash-gray color, looking as if he had just seen the devil himself.
“Hello, Dante,” Luca said, his voice echoing loudly in the cavernous space, dripping with absolute, terrifying calm. “You look surprised.”
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Dante stumbled backward, instinctively reaching for the heavy pistol tucked into the waistband of his jeans.
Before his fingers could even touch the grip, the red laser sights of twenty different syndicate sniper rifles suddenly painted his chest, piercing through the dark warehouse from every conceivable angle.
