Chapter 7 - Midnight on the Riverbank
The rain poured down in blinding sheets as Lorenzo stepped out onto the rear terrace of the villa, his long black leather coat whipping wildly in the autumn wind.
Pino was at his side, his ears pinned back, a low, terrifying growl rumbling deep in his chest.
Down by the riverbank—where the private estate grounds met the dark, rushing waters of the Hudson River—a small black speedboat sat idling in the shadows of the willow trees, its engine humming like a muffled throat.
Standing near the stone dock was a man in a black tactical jacket, carrying a heavy waterproof duffel bag.
Lorenzo didn't call out. He didn't order the man to halt.
He simply walked down the wet marble steps, his boots striking the stone with rhythmic, deliberate force, Pino moving beside him like a silent assassin.
The man turned around frantically, raising a suppressed firearm—
“Pino. Fass.”
The Doberman exploded forward like an iron bolt released from a crossbow.
The dog covered twenty yards in three seconds, leaping through the rain and slamming his 125-pound frame straight into the gunman’s chest. The man shrieked as he hit the wet grass, his weapon flying uselessly into the river.
Lorenzo reached the dock, standing over the struggling man as Pino pinned him to the mud with his massive forepaws, jaws hovering inches from the man’s throat.
Lorenzo reached down, grabbed the hood of the man’s jacket, and pulled it back.
It was Valenti—his own lead legal counsel.
“Don Lorenzo! Please!” Valenti sobbed, his glasses lost in the mud, his face smeared with dirt and rain. “Please don't kill me! They threatened my family! Silvio Moretti said he’d murder my daughter if I didn't get the second ledger out tonight!”
Lorenzo looked down at the waterproof duffel bag sitting on the dock. He kicked it open with his boot.
Inside were six bound files of real estate deeds, offshore bank keys, and the original founding charters of the Duca family business.
“You took my father’s money for twenty years, Valenti,” Lorenzo said softly, his voice barely audible over the roar of the river. “He paid for your law degree. He bought your house in the Hamptons.”
“I was scared!” Valenti screamed, his hands raised in terror as Pino’s growl deepened. “Silvio is insane! He’s bringing eighty men from Brooklyn tomorrow morning! He’s going to take the estate by force!”
Lorenzo looked out across the dark river, where the distant lights of the Manhattan skyline flickered through the rain like cold stars.
“Let him come,” Lorenzo said.
May you like
He looked down at Valenti, his dark eyes showing no mercy, no hesitation, no fear.
“Tell Silvio that Villa Duca is not a corporate office,” Lorenzo whispered. “It is a fortress. And the man who rules it does not compromise anymore.”
