Chapter 4 - The Twisted Bargain
The freezing rain battered my face as I stood completely paralyzed on the roof.
Grace was still pregnant, her beautiful face pale and streaked with terrified tears.
The bundle in my mother's arms was a cruel decoy designed to distract me.
Vincenzo Moretti shouted over the roaring engine, demanding I drop my weapon immediately.
He promised to carve my unborn child out of my wife right there if I refused to obey.
I slowly lowered my pistol and dropped it onto the wet concrete of the helipad.
My mother looked down at me from the safety of the cabin with absolute disgust in her eyes.
She told me a true mafia boss would never let a weak woman cloud his judgment.
Vincenzo laughed loudly and pulled Grace completely inside the rising helicopter.
The side door slammed shut, cutting off Grace's desperate cries for help.
I watched helplessly as the chopper banked sharply and disappeared into the dark, stormy sky.
I fell to my knees on the cold roof, my chest heaving with a suffocating panic.
But a true Rossi never stays down for long.
I picked up my gun and walked back into the chaotic mansion with a completely hollow heart.
I gathered my top lieutenants in the main dining room, spreading a map of the city across the long table.
I knew Vincenzo Moretti's operating procedures better than anyone else in the criminal underworld.
He would never take a high-value hostage straight to his main compound.
He would take her to a secure transfer site to arrange a proper ransom negotiation.
I ordered my men to hack into the city's private aviation radar systems.
Ten agonizing minutes later, my tech specialist finally found an unregistered flight path.
The helicopter had landed at an abandoned shipping yard on the industrial edge of the city.
I loaded my assault rifle and grabbed every spare magazine I could carry.
We drove through the stormy night in a massive convoy of armored black SUVs.
I was ready to wage a full-scale war to get my family back.
But when we crashed through the chain-link gates of the shipping yard, the entire compound was completely silent.
We found the black helicopter sitting empty on the cracked asphalt.
The pilot was slumped over the controls with a single bullet hole in the back of his head.
There was a cell phone taped to the windshield, displaying a live video feed.
I grabbed the phone and stared at the screen in pure disbelief.
The video showed my mother securely tied to a chair in a dark, damp room.
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Vincenzo Moretti stepped into the frame and smiled directly at the camera.
He told me my mother's peace treaty was a complete joke, and he was taking everything for himself.
