Chapter 5 - The Red Estate
The heavy glass of the conservatory shattered as the first wave of mercenaries breached the perimeter.
"Dominic called in the Petrov syndicate," Elena gasped, recognizing the tactical markings on the security screens.
"They're not here to negotiate, Luca; they're here to burn the entire estate to the ground."
Dominic scrambled toward the broken French doors, vanishing into the rainy garden before Tommy could fire.
"Forget Dominic," Luca commanded, his voice steady despite the agony coursing through his limbs.
"Elena, take the boy down through the wine cellar tunnel that leads to the boathouse."
"I am not leaving you behind, Luca!" Elena shouted, her eyes blazing with fierce defiance.
"You can barely move your legs!"
"I am not staying behind," Luca replied, gripping the edges of the desk.
Luca forced his feet flat onto the hardwood floor.
He locked his knees, braced his core, and pushed upward with his powerful arms.
His legs shook violently like dry branches in a gale, but he stood.
For the first time in twelve long years, Luca Costello stood on his own two feet.
He towered at six feet two inches, a shadow of vengeance brought back from the grave.
He stumbled forward, catching the doorframe as his balance faltered, but his legs held his weight.
Tommy stared in wide-eyed reverence, lowering the gun slightly.
"Holy cow," Tommy whispered.
"Get the ammunition box from behind the bookshelf, Tommy," Luca ordered, his breathing heavy and ragged.
Tommy pulled the false front of the bookcase, revealing a tactical locker containing two assault carbines and multiple magazines.
Luca racked the slide of a carbine with practiced, lethal muscle memory.
"They took my daughter," Luca said, stepping out into the darkened hallway.
"And now I am going to remind Chicago why they feared my name."
Automatic gunfire chewed through the hallway walls, showering them with plaster and splintered wood.
Two masked mercenaries rounded the corner with flashlights mounted on their rifles.
Luca leaned out from behind the marble statue of his father, firing two controlled bursts with pinpoint accuracy.
Both mercenaries dropped instantly to the floor.
Luca moved forward, his gait awkward and dragging, but relentlessly advancing like an iron golem.
They reached the hidden door of the wine cellar and descended the stone steps into the cool subterranean air.
At the end of the tunnel sat a high-speed cigarette boat docked inside the private boathouse.
As Luca pulled Elena and Tommy aboard, his satellite phone buzzed with an incoming video call.
Luca pressed the screen and saw Maya tied to a wooden pillar inside a massive industrial warehouse.
Standing behind her was not Dominic Rossi.
Standing behind the child was Viktor Petrov, the ruthless patriarch of the Russian mafia.
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"You killed my brother twelve years ago, Costello," Viktor's gravelly voice rasped through the speaker.
"Tonight, your bloodline burns in the incinerator."
