Chapter 9 - Reckoning on Lake Michigan
The snow began to fall in thick, swirling flurries, coating the dark pine forest in a silent, ghostly white.
In the clearing surrounding the safehouse, the tactical skirmish was swift, brutal, and utterly decisive. Moretti’s men had expected an isolated cabin; instead, they walked straight into a kill zone engineered by a man who had anticipated every move before they even stepped foot across his property line.
Flashbangs lit up the snowy woods with blinding magnesium glare. Suppressed gunfire echoed sharply against the timber.
Within fifteen minutes, it was over.
Four of Moretti’s men were face down in the snow, zip-tied and secured by Vincent’s elite security detail. The remaining two had fled back toward the perimeter fence, only to find the access roads blocked by federal marshals tipped off by Vincent’s forensic data dump.
Vincent walked through the drifting snow, his heavy wool coat sweeping around his boots, his breath pluming in the freezing air.
At the center of the clearing stood Victor Moretti himself—held firmly by Viktor, one of Vincent’s oldest loyal enforcers. Moretti was a thick-set man in a ruined trench coat, bleeding from a graze on his cheek, glaring with venomous hatred.
“You’re slipping, Calloway,” Moretti spat, laughing darkly. “You’re getting soft. Spending your time playing house with maids and brats instead of running your syndicates.”
Vincent stopped two feet away. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't smile.
“You made three fatal mistakes, Victor,” Vincent said calmly, adjusting his leather gloves.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“You thought Gordon’s petty theft was a sign of weakness,” Vincent said, stepping closer. “You thought my estate was vulnerable because I trusted the wrong man twice in my life.”
“And the third mistake?” Moretti sneered.
Vincent’s dark eyes flashed with arctic fury.
“You stepped onto my property.”
With a single, lightning-fast motion, Vincent struck Moretti across the temple with the heavy steel grip of his pistol, dropping the South Side boss instantly into the snow like a broken puppet.
“Load him into the transport,” Vincent ordered Viktor without breaking stride. “Send him to federal custody in Marion. Make sure the prosecutor has every encrypted wire transfer Gordon ever sent him.”
“Consider it done, boss,” Viktor grunted, hauling Moretti up by his collar.
Vincent turned and walked back toward the glowing warmth of the safehouse.
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The war was over. The internal rot had been excised. The external threat had been permanently neutralized.
Now, there was only one thing left to do.
