Chapter 6 - Blood in the Study
Absolute, violent chaos instantly erupted in the confined, luxurious space of the private study.
Tony’s four surviving bodyguards desperately drew their automatic weapons, but Allessandro’s hidden men were already in superior tactical positions.
Deafening gunfire completely shattered the quiet peace of the autumn night.
The harsh, acrid smell of burning sulfur and fresh gunpowder instantly filled the room, stinging the eyes of everyone breathing.
Allessandro seamlessly ducked behind his heavy, solid mahogany desk as a hail of bullets tore mercilessly through his collection of expensive, antique books.
He popped up for a fraction of a second and fired two precise, lethal shots, dropping the closest Moretti enforcer with ruthless, calculated efficiency.
Isabella screamed at the top of her lungs and dove frantically behind the leather sofa, covering her ears to block out the roaring noise.
Carlo brutally kicked down the side door of the study, entering the chaotic firefight wielding a heavy, pump-action shotgun.
He blasted another Boston guard right through the antique glass display case, sending thousands of shattered glass shards raining down everywhere.
Within forty grueling seconds, the deafening noise of the guns abruptly stopped.
A thick, suffocating cloud of gray smoke hung heavy in the air, obscuring the gruesome aftermath.
Three of Tony Moretti’s heavily armed men lay completely dead on the expensive, blood-soaked Persian rug.
The fourth guard was groaning pathetically in the corner, clutching a completely shattered shoulder and begging for mercy.
Tony himself was crawling desperately toward the doorway like a crushed insect, leaving a thick, wet trail of blood from his shattered knee.
Allessandro stepped calmly out from behind the bullet-riddled mahogany desk.
He walked over slowly and pressed the hard sole of his expensive leather shoe firmly and cruelly against Tony’s bleeding leg wound.
Tony screamed in fresh, blinding agony, his face pressing flat into the carpet as he clawed helplessly at the floor.
"You really thought you could just walk into my house and take my city without a fight?" Allessandro asked, leaning over his defeated enemy.
His voice was terrifyingly calm, completely unaffected by the extreme violence that had just occurred.
Tony gasped desperately for air, glaring up at the Providence boss with eyes full of pure, venomous hatred.
"You are a walking dead man, Romano," Tony spat, coughing up a mouthful of blood.
"The rest of my family in Boston will come down here and slaughter you for this."
Allessandro leaned down further and aggressively grabbed Tony by the bloodstained lapels of his ruined camel coat.
"Your family will be entirely too busy attending your closed-casket funeral to worry about revenge," Allessandro whispered directly into Tony's ear.
He pressed the hot barrel of his heavy revolver directly against Tony's sweaty forehead.
Suddenly, a loud, commanding voice rang out from the shadowy corner near the doorway.
"Put the gun down on the floor right now, Allessandro."
Allessandro completely froze in place, his finger hovering over the trigger.
He recognized that rough, familiar voice instantly without needing to turn his head.
It was a voice he had trusted implicitly with his life and his secrets for fifteen long years.
Allessandro slowly turned his head, a sickening feeling of dread pooling in his stomach.
Carlo was standing near the shattered remains of the glass display case.
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But Carlo's heavy shotgun was no longer pointed at the surviving Moretti guards on the floor.
The massive weapon was aimed directly at the center of Allessandro's chest.
