Chapter 4 - The Betrayal at Lake Shore
The lights inside the mansion suddenly died, plunging the vast estate into total darkness, save for the pale glow of the blizzard outside.
Dario didn't need the lights. He knew every square inch of the house he had built. He moved like a ghost down the service staircase, his footsteps silent on the thick carpet, his senses dialed to an absolute, lethal focus.
In the second-floor hallway outside the empty nursery, Sandro’s tactical team moved in a wedge formation. Their weapons were raised, night-vision goggles glowing a faint, eerie green in the dark.
"Clear the room," Sandro’s voice came from the radio, hushed and sharp. "Find the children. No survivors. Make it look like a home invasion by Moretti’s men."
"Understood," a mercenary replied, reaching for the handle of the nursery door.
Before his fingers could touch the metal, a shadow detached itself from the alcove behind him.
THWACK.
Dario drove a combat knife cleanly through the tactical vest into the mercenary’s throat, arresting the man’s scream with his free hand, pulling his body silently into the shadows before the others realized he was gone.
"Team Alpha, report," the squad leader whispered, turning around.
A suppressor whispered twice through the dark.
Pfft. Pfft.
The squad leader and his point man dropped to the floor, killed instantly by precise headshots.
The remaining two mercenaries panicked, spinning around and spraying blind gunfire down the corridor, the muted thuds of their suppressed submachine guns tearing through the plaster walls and shattering decorative mirrors.
Dario ducked behind a heavy oak pillar, pulled a flashbang grenade from his vest, pulled the pin, and tossed it down the hall.
BANG!
A blinding white flash and a concussive shockwave shattered the dark. The two mercenaries reeled back, clutching their ears, completely disoriented. Dario stepped out from behind the pillar and dispatched them with cold, mechanical efficiency.
The hallway fell silent, save for the ringing in the air and the smell of ozone and cordite.
Dario stepped over the fallen men, searching their vests. On the neck of the squad leader was a small tattoo: a black crow with a dagger through its eye.
The mark of the Crow Syndicate—a ruthless mercenary guild from Detroit that operated exclusively as high-priced hitmen for hire.
Dario’s radio, taken from the squad leader’s vest, crackled to life.
"Team Alpha, this is Sandro," the voice came through, tense and impatient. "Is the package secured? Have you eliminated the girl?"
Dario picked up the radio, holding it to his mouth.
"They're dead, Sandro," Dario said softly, his voice carrying an icy calm that sent a chill through the speaker. "All five of them."
A long, suffocating silence hung on the line.
"Dario..." Sandro’s voice trembled slightly before hardening into a cold, desperate chuckle. "You always were too quick with a gun. You should have stayed in your study."
"You sold my sister to Moretti," Dario said, stepping toward the grand marble staircase that overlooked the main foyer. "You staged her death, stole her children's inheritance, and tried to murder my blood in a snowy alley."
"Mara was going to give the federal prosecutors the shipping ledgers!" Sandro screamed into the radio, his composure finally shattering. "She was going to destroy everything we built! I did what was necessary to save the Fera family! You were weak, Dario—blindsided by your love for her!"
"I am standing at the top of the stairs, Sandro," Dario said, reaching the landing, looking down into the dark foyer where Sandro stood surrounded by six remaining mercenaries. "Come up and show me how strong you are."
Sandro looked up into the darkness of the second floor, his face pale, his eyes wild. "Kill him!" he shrieked to his men. "Kill him and I’ll double your pay!"
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The mercenaries raised their rifles, unleashing a rain of lead up the marble staircase.
Dario vaulted over the banister, dropping into the darkness below like a falling hammer.
