Chapter 5 - Fire on Atwells Avenue
The rain was coming down in sheets when the Maybach screeched to a halt at the intersection of Atwells Avenue and Dean Street.
Ahead, the front windows of Marchetti’s restaurant were shattered, dark smoke pouring out from the upper dining room. Four heavy black SUVs blocked the street, and a dozen men in raincoats were spraying gasoline against the wooden entrance doors.
Standing on the sidewalk, holding a flaming flare in his hand, was Julian Vane.
Julian was a tall, gaunt man in his fifties with sunken eyes and a face twisted by greed and panic. He knew that if Victor Marchetti lived through the day, his financial empire, his freedom, and his life were forfeited.
"Burn it!" Julian screamed to his men over the roar of the rain. "Burn the whole block down!"
The Maybach’s doors flew open.
Victor stepped out into the pouring rain, his wool coat soaking instantly, his amber eyes burning with an unholy light. He didn't take cover. He walked straight down the middle of Atwells Avenue, his heavy shoes splashing through the puddles like a storm god descending upon mortals.
Karen stepped out right behind him, staying close to his flank as Marco and five armored Marchetti enforcers fanned out behind them, their automatic rifles raised and locked.
"Vane!" Victor’s voice boomed across the street, cutting straight through the roar of the rain and the crackle of the flames.
Julian spun around, his face turning pale as paper when he saw Victor walking toward him unharmed.
"Marchetti!" Julian yelled, his hands shaking as he pointed his revolver at Victor. "Stay back! I'm burning your legacy to the ground!"
"My legacy isn't built on brick and mortar, Julian," Victor said calmly, continuing his steady march forward, not even flinching as Julian aimed the gun at his chest. "My legacy is built on fear and loyalty. Two things you have never understood."
"Kill him!" Julian screamed to his enforcers. "Kill them both!"
Before Vane’s men could raise their weapons, Marco’s team opened fire.
RAT-A-TAT-TAT!
The deafening roar of tactical suppressors shattered the night air. Precision shots took down three of Vane’s primary gunmen before they could pull their triggers, their bodies dropping onto the wet asphalt.
Vane panicked, turning his revolver toward Karen, who was standing ten feet behind Victor.
"If I'm going down, I'm taking your girl with me!" Vane shrieked, tightening his finger on the trigger.
BANG!
Victor moved with terrifying, inhuman speed. He didn't pull his gun—he threw his entire massive body in front of Karen, grabbing Vane’s wrist and wrenching it upward just as the gun discharged.
The bullet whizzed harmlessly into the stormy night sky.
With a deep growl, Victor brought his heavy elbow down onto Vane’s arm, breaking the bone with a sickening CRACK!
Vane screamed in agony, dropping the gun and the flare onto the wet pavement.
Victor grabbed Vane by his throat with one broad hand, lifting the heavy man two inches off the ground, slamming him hard against the side of his own SUV.
"You threatened my assistant," Victor hissed into Vane’s ear, his voice vibrating with pure, lethal power. "You tried to burn my house. You ordered the hit on Nell Delaney two years ago."
Vane choked, his face turning blue as he clawed helplessly at Victor’s iron grip. "Please... Victor... spare me..."
Victor reached into his coat with his free hand, pulling out the small leather journal Nell had given him before she died. He held it right in front of Vane’s bulging eyes.
"This journal goes to the State Attorney General in ten minutes," Victor whispered coldly. "You won't die tonight, Julian. Dying is too easy. You're going to spend the rest of your miserable life in a maximum-security cell, watching me spend your fortune to rebuild this city."
Victor hurled Vane onto the wet pavement at Marco’s feet.
"Cuff him," Victor ordered coldly. "Deliver him to the FBI field office in Boston."
"Yes, Boss!" Marco yelled, dragging the wailing man away into the back of an armored van.
Victor turned slowly, wiping rain and sweat from his face, looking back at Karen.
The restaurant behind them was still burning, orange flames licking at the broken second-story windows, reflecting against the puddles on the street.
Karen ran forward, her feet splashing through the rain, throwing her arms around Victor’s neck, burying her face into his wet, warm chest.
"You're okay," she sobbed, holding him with all her remaining strength. "You're okay..."
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Victor’s heavy arms wrapped tightly around her waist, lifting her slightly off her feet, holding her against his heart as if she were the most precious treasure in the world.
"I'm fine, Karen," Victor murmured softly into her wet hair, kissing her temple softly. "The storm is over. It’s finally over."
