Chapter 5 - Sins of the Father
I recognized the horrific burn scars on the man's face immediately despite the passage of time.
His name was Victor Rossi, a former rival mob boss whose nightclub my father had burned to the ground fifteen years ago.
I had assumed Victor perished in those flames, but here he stood, holding my innocent daughter hostage in his underground clinic.
Victor explained that he had spent the last decade building this medical facility specifically to service the criminal underworld.
He had been waiting patiently for the perfect opportunity to exact his brutal revenge on the Moretti bloodline.
Marco had tipped him off that I was heading this way, offering Victor my life in exchange for his continued medical loyalty.
I looked at Elena, who was paralyzed on the steel table but still entirely conscious and terrified by what she was hearing.
The little girl in the yellow dress stood perfectly frozen, the cold steel of the scalpel pressing lightly against her delicate skin.
I raised my hands slowly, trying to project a calm, commanding authority that I absolutely did not feel.
I told Victor that my father was long dead, and my daughter had absolutely nothing to do with the violent sins of the past.
I offered him double whatever Marco was paying him, promising to set him up like an absolute king in Europe.
Victor laughed, a dry, raspy sound that echoed terribly against the thick concrete walls of the underground bunker.
He said all the money in the world could never give him back the handsome face my family had stolen from him.
He pressed the scalpel slightly harder, drawing a tiny, terrifying drop of blood from my daughter's neck.
My heart hammered aggressively against my ribs, knowing a single sudden movement could cost the child her life.
I realized negotiation was entirely useless against a man driven purely by a decade of agonizing, festering hatred.
I glanced down at the medical tray beside me, spotting a heavy defibrillator unit resting quietly on the bottom shelf.
I kicked the metal tray with all my strength, sending expensive surgical tools clattering loudly across the tile floor.
Victor flinched for just a fraction of a second, his grip on the little girl loosening just enough for her to slip away.
I grabbed the heavy defibrillator paddles, thumbing the maximum charge button as I lunged forward across the room.
I slammed the electric paddles directly into Victor's chest, sending a massive, lethal shockwave straight through his heart.
He convulsed violently, dropping the bloody scalpel and collapsing onto the floor in a heap of smoking clothes.
I scooped my daughter into my arms, rushing over to the table where Elena was paralyzed and unable to speak.
I searched Victor's pockets frantically, finding a small glass vial clearly labeled as the chemical antidote.
I injected it into Elena's arm, praying it would reverse the paralysis before her weakened lungs stopped working entirely.
Within seconds, Elena took a massive, gasping breath, her fingers twitching as beautiful control returned to her body.
I helped her sit up, wrapping my ruined suit jacket around her shivering, exhausted shoulders.
We had to leave the clinic immediately before Marco's men arrived to finish the job Victor had spectacularly failed to do.
I pushed open the heavy steel doors leading back up to the dark Brooklyn streets above.
But as the doors swung wide, we were instantly blinded by the glaring headlights of four black armored SUVs.
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A dozen men stepped out of the vehicles, aiming high-powered assault rifles directly at our chests.
And standing in the center of the ambush, clapping slowly and mockingly, was my presumed-dead brother, Dominic.
