Chapter 11 - The Blood on the Tracks
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Absolute chaos erupted in the fog.
Dante provided covering fire from the silo, his sniper rifle roaring with deadly precision. Every time Victor’s men tried to flank Matteo’s position, Dante dropped them into the mud.
Jimmy scrambled away from his captors, crawling under a rusted train axle, weeping in sheer terror.
Victor abandoned his arrogant posture immediately. He dropped his cigar and sprinted toward a waiting armored SUV, screaming at his remaining men to cover his escape.
“Hold the line, you idiots!” Victor shrieked, diving behind the thick metal door of his vehicle.
Matteo moved relentlessly through the railyard. He didn't waste ammo. He fired in short, controlled bursts. Two of Victor’s gunmen stepped out from behind a shipping container, aiming automatic weapons. Matteo didn't even break stride. Two shots. Two bodies hitting the gravel.
He was a machine operating on pure, lethal instinct. He was closing the distance to Victor’s SUV.
“Drive! Drive!” Victor screamed at his driver.
The SUV’s tires spun in the mud, kicking up a massive spray of dirt before finding traction. Matteo raised his rifle, aiming for the tires, but a sudden sharp, burning pain ripped through his left shoulder.
He stumbled, falling against a rusted steel beam. A stray bullet had clipped him, tearing through the muscle just above his collarbone.
Matteo gritted his teeth, refusing to make a sound. He watched the taillights of Victor’s SUV disappear into the fog, speeding away from the massacre.
The railyard slowly fell silent, save for the groans of the dying and the steady patter of the freezing rain.
Dante scrambled down the ladder of the silo and ran toward Matteo, his heavy boots splashing in the puddles.
“Boss! You're hit!” Dante yelled, slinging his rifle and grabbing Matteo’s arm.
“It’s a through-and-through,” Matteo hissed, pressing his hand against the bleeding wound. “I’m fine. Get Jimmy.”
They pulled the terrified diner owner out from beneath the train car. Jimmy was hyperventilating, staring at the bodies scattered across the yard. He looked at Matteo, seeing the blood soaking through his trench coat, and began to sob.
“I'm sorry, Mr. Rossi,” Jimmy choked out. “I'm so sorry. They threatened my little girl. They told me if I didn't give them your address, they would kill her.”
Matteo froze. The pain in his shoulder instantly vanished, replaced by an icy, paralyzing dread.
“Jimmy,” Matteo whispered, grabbing the man’s collar. “Did you give Victor my home address?”
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Jimmy nodded frantically, tears streaming down his bruised face. “I had to. I’m sorry. They sent a hit squad there ten minutes ago.”
Lena was alone at the house.
