Chapter 5 - Fire in the Snow
The main foyer turned into a nightmare of muzzle flashes, flying marble chips, and roaring thunder.
Dario landed on his feet behind a heavy stone display table, the impact absorbing into his knees as bullets shattered the priceless Roman vase above his head. He rolled to his right, coming up behind a mercenary reloading his rifle, drove his elbow into the man’s jaw, grabbed his rifle, and used him as a human shield against a barrage from the right.
TAK-TAK-TAK-TAK!
Dario returned fire with the captured weapon, taking down two attackers near the front entrance, their bodies crashing into the shattered glass of the double doors.
Sal, Dario’s loyal head of house security who had been alerted by the gunfire from the lower quarters, burst into the foyer with three trusted guards, engaging Sandro’s remaining men from the flank.
"Cover the Don!" Sal roared, racking a tactical shotgun and dropping an attacker near the grand piano.
The gunfight was brutal, short, and absolute. Within two minutes, every mercenary in the foyer was dead or dying on the blood-stained marble floor.
Through the settling dust and gunsmoke, Dario saw Sandro sprinting through the shattered front doors into the howling blizzard outside, heading toward his idling sedan.
"Dario! Don't let him reach the car!" Sal yelled, trying to pursue, but Dario raised his hand.
"He’s mine," Dario growled.
Dario stepped out into the freezing wind, the blizzard whipping his hair, snow stinging his face. He walked deliberately across the red-stained snow, tracking Sandro’s panicked footsteps toward the gate.
Sandro reached his vehicle, his hands shaking violently as he tried to slip the key card into the door lock. He dropped the card into the deep snow, cursing hysterically, scrambling on his knees to find it.
A shadow fell over him.
Sandro looked up to see Dario standing over him, towering like an avenging demon against the white backdrop of the storm.
Dario reached down, grabbed Sandro by the throat with one hand, and lifted him off his knees, slamming his back hard against the side of the car.
"Please, Dario!" Sandro choked out, his eyes bulging, his fingers frantically clawing at Dario’s iron grip. "Please! We were brothers! Your father raised us both!"
"My father raised a snake," Dario said, his voice a low, terrifying rumble that drowned out the howling wind. "Where is Mara buried, Sandro? Where did you put my sister?"
Sandro gasped for air, his face turning purple under the pressure on his windpipe. "In... in the pine forest... outside Geneva, Wisconsin... near the old cabin... she... she died of pneumonia six months ago... I didn't kill her, Dario! I swear to God I didn't kill her!"
Dario stared into Sandro’s terrified eyes, searching for any shred of truth. He saw only smallness, cowardice, and the rotten greed of a man who had sacrificed everything for power he could never hold.
"You left her children to freeze in an alley," Dario whispered.
"Dario—"
CRACK.
Dario twisted his wrist with cold, effortless finality. Sandro’s body went limp, collapsing into the snow like a sack of wet rags.
Dario stood over his former lieutenant for a long moment, the wind blowing white snow over the body, slowly erasing the evidence of the traitor.
Sal ran out of the house, his coat pulled tight against the cold, stopping beside Dario. "Boss... the police will be here in ten minutes. We need to secure the compound."
Dario turned around, looking back at his illuminated estate.
May you like
"Clean the house, Sal," Dario said, his voice steady and resolute. "Contact Mateo. Tell him we are going to Geneva, Wisconsin, tomorrow to bring my sister home. And call Dr. Nadia... tell her the house is safe."
He walked back into the warmth of his home, leaving the shadows of the past buried in the snow outside.
