Chapter 6 - The Ghost from the Past
The high-caliber bullet violently tore through Sergei's chest, throwing his heavy body backward onto the broken altar.
He was completely dead before he even hit the dusty stone floor.
I immediately dove fiercely behind a thick marble pillar as a second shot chipped the stone where I had just been standing.
The Ghost was methodically eliminating his hired accomplices to completely erase his trail.
I crawled quickly through the dark, wooden pews, keeping my head dangerously low to avoid the deadly sniper fire.
I burst out the heavy side door into the freezing alleyway and sprinted desperately toward my hidden vehicle.
My phone suddenly vibrated aggressively with a new, highly encrypted audio message.
I slammed the heavy car door shut and aggressively hit the play button on the screen.
"Did you really think the Russians were smart enough to pull this off, Alessandro?" the distorted voice mocked loudly.
"They were just loud, messy pawns on my meticulously arranged chessboard."
"I wanted you to willingly give away your precious empire so you could feel exactly what it is like to lose everything."
I furiously punched the steering wheel, my knuckles bleeding from the sheer, violent force.
"Who are you?" I screamed uselessly at the cold digital screen.
"You know exactly who I am, brother," the voice suddenly changed, dropping the heavy digital distortion entirely.
My breath caught painfully in my throat, heavily suffocating my lungs.
It was Lorenzo.
My older brother, who had violently tried to overthrow our father ten long years ago.
I had personally shot him perfectly in the chest and watched him fall helplessly into the freezing river.
Our father had ordered the execution, and I had dutifully followed the dark mafia code.
"You have exactly twenty minutes to find the old freezing basement," Lorenzo's voice continued calmly.
"Or the little girl goes to sleep forever."
A GPS coordinate suddenly flashed brightly on my screen, locating a deeply abandoned meatpacking plant on the edge of the city.
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I slammed my foot violently onto the gas pedal, tearing aggressively through the red traffic lights.
My supposedly dead brother had carefully orchestrated this entire nightmare just to brutally torture my soul.
