Chapter 8 - The Crucible
Three months later, the final threat to the De Luca family emerged from an unexpected shadow.
Salvatore Russo—the former maître d’ of Il Destino—had not simply been a nervous employee. He had been a high-level mole planted inside the De Luca empire by the Russian Bratva, led by a ruthless oligarch named Viktor Volkov.
When the Moretti family collapsed, Volkov realized that Marco De Luca was consolidating absolute control over New York. Desperate to stop Marco, Volkov executed a treacherous, cowardly strike.
It happened on a quiet Tuesday afternoon while Marco was at a high-level meeting in Manhattan. Salvatore used his lingering security codes to bypass the estate’s outer perimeter, disabling the main gate sensors and smuggling four elite Russian mercenaries onto the grounds.
Target: Elena Vance.
When the alarm finally flared, Elena acted with lightning speed. She didn't panic. She grabbed Matteo and Luca, rushing them down into the mansion’s secure panic room beneath the library.
“Elena! What’s happening?” Matteo cried as the heavy steel doors groaned.
“It’s a game of hide and seek, sweet heart,” Elena said calmly, her voice steady despite the terror gripping her heart. “The safe room door didn't lock properly—the power was cut.”
She looked at the reinforced door. The electronic magnetic lock had failed due to Salvatore’s sabotage; the latch was holding by a thread. Outside, heavy, metallic footsteps were echoing down the hallway toward the library.
“Listen to me,” Elena whispered, kneeling before the twins. “I am going to lure them away from this room. You two stay right here in the dark. Do not make a sound until your father comes. Do you understand?”
“No, Elena! Don't go!” Luca sobbed quietly, clutching her skirt.
“I love you both so much,” Elena whispered, kissing both their foreheads. “You are my brave sentinels. Protect each other.”
Elena stepped out of the panic room, pulling the door shut behind her. She picked up a heavy bronze statue from a side table and smashed it against the glass cabinet in the hallway—CRASH!
“Over here, you bastards!” Elena shouted, running toward the west wing of the mansion.
The Russian mercenaries turned instantly toward the noise. “There she is! Take her alive! Volkov wants her as leverage!”
Ten minutes later, Marco’s armored convoy tore through the front gates of the estate, taking down the perimeter fence. Marco leaped out of his vehicle before it even came to a complete stop, his face pale with horror, a assault rifle clutched in his hands.
He stormed into the mansion, Frank and twenty heavily armed De Luca soldiers behind him.
“Elena! Boys!” Marco roared, his voice shaking the walls.
In the dimly lit library, two small figures emerged from the shadows.
“Dad!” Matteo and Luca called out.
Marco dropped his weapon, dropping to his knees as his sons threw themselves into his arms. He checked them frantically over—no blood, no injuries.
“Where is Elena? Where is she?” Marco gasped, panic choking his throat.
“A bad man took her,” Luca cried, pointing toward the rear gardens. “They put a bag over her head and took her into a big black van. She broke a glass so we could stay safe!”
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Marco’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces, replaced instantly by an icy, apocalyptic wrath. He stood up, turning to Frank.
“Trace every camera within ten miles,” Marco ordered, his voice terrifyingly calm—the silence before a nuclear blast. “Call every family in the five boroughs. Tell them Marco De Luca is hunting. Anyone who harbors Viktor Volkov or Salvatore Russo will be erased from the face of the earth.”
