Chapter 18 - The Checkmate
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Within five minutes, the gunfire in the mansion abruptly ceased, leaving only the sound of the torrential rain pounding against the windows and the groans of dying men.
The radio on the dead assassin's vest crackled to life on the floor of the study.
“Boss… we’re secure,” the voice of Matteo’s head of security, Luca, came through the static. “All hostiles neutralized. We took one alive, just like you asked.”
“Bring him to the ballroom,” Matteo said coldly into the darkness.
He turned his wheelchair and rolled out of the study, over the bodies of the men he had just killed, and headed toward the grand ballroom. Elena followed silently, her face pale but her eyes burning with vindication.
When Matteo entered the ballroom, the chandeliers were blazing brightly, just as they had been three nights ago during Celeste’s treacherous toast.
Kneeling on the blood-stained marble floor in the center of the room was Lorenzo Viti. He was bruised, bleeding from a cut on his forehead, and surrounded by four of Matteo’s heavily armed loyalists.
Lorenzo looked up, trembling so violently his teeth were actually chattering. He looked at the paralyzed man rolling toward him, realizing far too late that he had severely underestimated the boss.
“You tipped them off, Lorenzo,” Matteo said, his voice echoing in the large room. “You gave them the security codes. You told them where my guards were supposed to be.”
“They forced me!” Lorenzo cried, sobbing openly now. “The Morettis threatened my family, Matteo! I had no choice! I thought you were weak!”
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“I am paralyzed, Lorenzo,” Matteo said softly, stopping his chair right in front of the kneeling traitor. “I am not weak.”
Matteo slowly drew his pistol and pointed it directly at Lorenzo’s forehead.
