Chapter 7 - The Final Gambit
The Valentis did not go quietly.
Furious over the loss of the Chicago shipping docks and the imprisonment of Vanessa, the New York family sent a hit squad to Chicago. They knew Vincent was recovering, and they struck during what they believed was his weakest moment: a Sunday morning when the mansion staff was reduced.
It was 6:00 a.m. when the alarms shattered the silence of the estate.
Three black SUVs crashed through the outer security gates, armed men pouring onto the manicured lawns.
In the master bedroom, Vincent woke instantly. The old soldier inside him took over. He grabbed a concealed firearm from his nightstand and ran straight to Lily’s room.
Elena was already there, screaming as bullets shattered the hallway windows.
"Get in the closet! Now!" Vincent ordered, shoving Elena and Lily into a hidden, reinforced panic room built behind the walk-in wardrobe.
"Vincent, no!" Elena cried, holding onto his shirt.
"Stay here. I built this house to protect what’s mine," Vincent said, his voice ringing with absolute authority. He kissed Elena quickly on the lips—a sudden, desperate spark of fire—and slammed the heavy steel door shut, locking them inside.
Vincent turned back to the hallway. He was no longer the freezing, shivering man under the cashmere blankets. He was the Don of Chicago.
Alongside Marco and four of his most loyal guards, Vincent met the invaders on the grand staircase. The gunfight was intense, loud, and brief. Vincent moved with lethal precision, his bullets finding their targets with the accuracy of a man who had survived a dozen street wars.
When the smoke cleared, the hit squad lay neutralized on the marble floor. Vincent stood at the top of the stairs, his chest heaving, a minor graze on his shoulder bleeding onto his white linen shirt.
Marco walked up, checking his weapon. "That’s all of them, Boss. The Valentis sent their best. They failed."
Vincent looked down at the destruction. He didn't feel the thrill of victory anymore. He felt disgust. He was tired of the blood. He was tired of the war.
"Call the FBI," Vincent ordered flatly.
May you like
Marco gasped. "Boss?"
"Give them the Valenti ledger we intercepted last week. Give them everything they need to put the New York family away for life. And Marco... hand over our remaining street operations to the minor crews. Tell them Chicago is open territory. We are done."
