Chapter 4 - The Ambush
The blinding white light from the SUVs washed over the alley, turning the falling snowflakes into glowing, chaotic sparks.
Salvatore moved with terrifying, explosive speed, his paternal instincts overriding the exhaustion that had plagued him all evening.
He violently shoved Maria behind a massive, steel dumpster, tossing the heavy woolen blanket entirely over Giana to conceal her from the impending crossfire.
"Keep your hands over her ears and do not make a single sound," Salvatore commanded, his voice dropping into a deadly, commanding register.
Five heavily armed men clad in dark tactical gear stepped out of the vehicles, their laser sights cutting through the snowy darkness like bright red predatory eyes.
Salvatore reached deep into the lining of his worn coat, his hand wrapping around the familiar, textured grip of his suppressed combat pistol.
He did not wait for the assassins to declare their intentions or issue a final warning.
He smoothly rolled out from behind the dumpster, dropping to one knee as he raised his weapon with absolute, mechanical precision.
The suppressed pistol coughed twice in rapid succession, a quiet, deadly sound that was instantly followed by the lead attacker dropping heavily to the frozen pavement.
The remaining hitmen shouted in panic, blindly unleashing a chaotic hail of automatic gunfire that viciously tore into the brick walls and shattered the nearby windows.
Salvatore moved like a shadow, using the rusted fire escape and discarded trash cans for cover as he systematically picked off his attackers.
He shot the second man in the knee, followed instantly by a lethal round to the chest as the man crumpled downward.
The deafening roar of the assault rifles masked the sound of the restaurant's heavy steel kitchen door swinging open once again.
Brenda stepped out onto the loading dock, an angry scowl on her face as she prepared to fire Maria for abandoning her shift.
Her arrogant complaints died in her throat as a stray bullet violently shattered the brick wall inches from her perfectly styled hair.
The third hitman, desperately looking for an advantage in the brutal firefight, lunged forward and grabbed Brenda violently by the collar of her expensive blazer.
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He dragged her out into the open, ignoring her piercing, terrified screams as he pressed the hot barrel of his rifle directly against her temple.
"Drop the gun, Marchetti, or I paint the snow with her brains!" the hitman roared, his eyes wild with adrenaline and fear.
