Chapter 4 - The Consigliere's Last Stand
The heavy metallic click of the suppressed pistol echoed loudly against the tile walls of the medical bay.
Thomas Russo aimed the weapon directly at Rocco's chest.
Rocco did not flinch, nor did he reach for the weapon holstered beneath his tailored suit jacket.
"You always were a brilliant strategist, Thomas," Rocco said calmly.
"But you were never a particularly good soldier."
Thomas sneered, his hand tightening around the grip of the gun.
"I do not need to be a soldier when I hold all the cards," Thomas replied.
"Valentina’s family has already surrounded the estate with fifty armed mercenaries."
"Your loyal captains upstairs are already dead."
Elena screamed and threw her body over Sophia to protect her from the impending gunfire.
Rocco slowly took a step forward, completely ignoring the barrel pointed at his heart.
"Did you really think I trusted you enough to leave my back exposed?" Rocco asked.
Thomas frowned, a flicker of doubt crossing his confident face.
Before Thomas could pull the trigger, the ventilation grate above his head suddenly gave way.
A massive, heavily armored bodyguard dropped directly from the ceiling and landed squarely on Thomas’s shoulders.
The suppressed pistol fired wildly into the floor tiles as the two men crashed onto the linoleum.
Rocco immediately closed the distance with terrifying speed.
He kicked the pistol out of Thomas's hand and drove his knee brutally into the consigliere's ribs.
The sound of breaking bone cracked loudly through the sterile room.
Thomas groaned in agony, spitting blood onto the pristine white floor.
Rocco grabbed Thomas by the throat and hoisted him halfway off the ground.
"Where is my wife?" Rocco demanded, his voice a lethal whisper.
Thomas laughed, a wet and ragged sound that bubbled from his ruined chest.
"She is already gone, Rocco," Thomas gasped.
"She left me here to clean up the mess, but she took what really matters."
Rocco tightened his grip, completely cutting off the traitor's air supply.
"Speak clearly," Rocco warned.
"Check the baby's blanket," Thomas wheezed, his eyes rolling back slightly.
"It is not just a blanket."
Rocco threw the dying man to the floor and rushed over to the examination table.
He picked up the expensive cashmere blanket that Sophia had used to wrap the newborn.
He ran his fingers along the thick seam at the edge of the fabric.
He felt a small, hard, rectangular object sewn directly into the lining.
Rocco ripped the fabric apart and pulled out a blinking red microchip.
It was a military-grade GPS tracker.
Suddenly, the bright fluorescent lights of the medical bay completely shut off.
The entire mansion was plunged into absolute, pitch-black darkness.
The heavy thud of explosive charges detonating outside shook the very foundation of the estate.
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Thomas laughed weakly in the dark before a final shudder took his life.
Valentina’s mercenary army had finally breached the walls.
