Chapter 13 - The Wrath of the King
|
The warehouse was deathly silent for exactly twenty-eight minutes.
Lorenzo paced the concrete floor, checking his gold watch, a triumphant smirk plastered on his face. Silvio stood nervously by the heavy metal doors, flanked by a dozen Calabrian soldiers armed with assault rifles.
“He isn't coming, Lorenzo,” Silvio muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. “Christopher isn't stupid. He knows it’s a kill box.”
“He’s coming,” Lorenzo replied confidently. “He’s a romantic fool, just like his mother.”
At minute twenty-nine, the heavy steel doors of the warehouse did not open.
Instead, the entire front wall of the corrugated metal building exploded inward.
A massive, armored garbage truck, painted pitch black, smashed through the steel siding at sixty miles an hour, crushing two Calabrian soldiers instantly beneath its wheels.
The warehouse erupted into absolute chaos.
“Kill him!” Lorenzo screamed, diving behind a stack of wooden shipping crates as the truck slammed into the center concrete pillar, stalling the engine.
Before the dust could even settle, the back doors of the armored truck flew open.
Christopher Vitali didn't come alone. He didn't come unarmed.
He stepped out of the smoke looking like the devil himself. He wore a heavy tactical vest over his ruined shirt, gripping an assault rifle. Behind him poured twenty of the most heavily armed, loyal Vitali soldiers, moving with terrifying military precision.
The firefight was deafening. The warehouse lit up with strobe-like flashes of muzzle fire.
“Emily! Get down!” Christopher’s voice roared over the deafening noise.
I threw myself sideways, the metal folding chair crashing to the floor, my hands still zip-tied behind my back. I curled into a ball, praying as bullets shredded the concrete around me.
Christopher moved like a machine. He wasn't the brooding man in the library; he was an apex predator unleashed. He fired with lethal accuracy, dropping Mancuso’s men one by one as he pushed relentlessly toward the center of the room.
Silvio panicked, dropping his weapon and sprinting toward the back exit.
Christopher didn't even aim. He fired a three-round burst from the hip. Silvio collapsed screaming, his kneecaps shattered, crawling pathetically across the bloody concrete.
The remaining Calabrian soldiers broke formation, terrified by the sheer, overwhelming brutality of the Boston syndicate’s assault.
Christopher threw his empty rifle to the ground, drawing his heavy pistol, and marched directly toward the shipping crates where Lorenzo was hiding.
May you like
Lorenzo popped up, aiming a handgun, but Christopher was faster. A single shot rang out, and Lorenzo’s gun flew from his shattered hand.
Christopher grabbed the screaming Calabrian boss by the throat, slamming him violently against the metal crate. The war was over in less than four minutes.
