Chapter 9 - The Resurrection
The gallery was entirely silent for one agonizing, suspended second.
Alessandro lay motionless on the marble floor, his body wrapped protectively around his crying daughter.
His uncle stood over him, holding the smoking golden revolver, a triumphant smile spreading across his wrinkled face.
But the smile vanished instantly when Alessandro suddenly rolled over and kicked the old man violently in the knee.
The bullet had struck Alessandro directly in the center of his back, but it had not pierced his skin.
Dante had heavily modified Alessandro's tactical vest that afternoon, sliding a solid steel trauma plate over his spine.
The impact had fractured his ribs, but he was entirely alive.
Alessandro rose to his feet like a terrifying, unstoppable force of nature.
He grabbed his uncle by the throat and slammed him brutally against the glass railing.
Camille rushed down the stairs, sweeping Sophie into her arms and running toward the safety of the hallway.
Dante burst into the room, his rifle raised, but the fight was already entirely over.
"You took six years of my life away from me," Alessandro growled, his hands tightening around his uncle's neck.
The old man gasped for air, his face turning a sickly shade of purple.
"You cannot kill me," his uncle choked out, a wicked, desperate gleam in his eyes.
"The police have completely surrounded the building, they are already downstairs."
His uncle smiled through the pain, revealing his ultimate, cowardly contingency plan.
"I called the FBI and told them a rogue mafia boss was holding an art gallery hostage."
"If you kill me, you will spend the rest of your miserable life in a federal penitentiary."
Red and blue police lights began to flash wildly through the massive glass windows of the gallery.
Heavy boots pounded against the stairs as a heavily armed SWAT team breached the lower levels.
Dante looked at Alessandro, his face pale with absolute dread.
"We have to run, boss, there are too many of them to fight," Dante urged frantically.
Alessandro looked at the old man who had caused him so much profound suffering.
He slowly released his grip on his uncle's throat, letting the pathetic man slide down the glass barrier to the floor.
"I am not going to kill you," Alessandro said, a cold, calculated smile appearing on his face.
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"I am going to let you burn in the fire you built yourself."
The SWAT team burst through the exhibition doors, aiming dozens of laser sights directly at Alessandro's chest.
