Chapter 9 - The Ultimatum
Adrian instantly pushed me down beneath the dashboard and raised his weapon.
"Don't move, Clara," he ordered, his voice steady despite the impossible odds.
He stepped away from the SUV, placing himself between the gunmen and my daughter.
Don Moretti tapped his cane against the concrete floor.
"Put the gun down, Adrian," the old man chuckled.
"You kill me, my men turn that car into Swiss cheese. The girl dies anyway."
Adrian’s finger hovered over the trigger.
"What do you want, Moretti?" Adrian growled.
"I want the paperwork," Moretti stated simply.
"Sign over the legitimate trusts, cede your territory to my family, and I will let the mother and child walk away."
Moretti pulled a folded document from his suit jacket.
"You, on the other hand, will not be leaving this garage, Adrian."
My breath hitched in my throat.
Moretti was offering to spare Nora and me, but only if Adrian surrendered his life and his empire.
Adrian didn't even hesitate.
"Bring me a pen," Adrian said, tossing his gun to the floor.
"No!" I screamed, popping up from behind the dashboard.
"Adrian, don't do it! He'll kill us anyway!"
Adrian looked at me, a sad, almost gentle smile crossing his face.
"I told you, Clara," he said softly.
"I will not fail James again."
One of Moretti’s men walked forward cautiously, handing Adrian a pen.
Adrian took the paperwork and placed it against the hood of the SUV.
He signed his name with bold, aggressive strokes.
He handed the papers back to the guard.
Moretti reviewed the signatures and smiled widely.
"A man of honor," Moretti mocked.
"Kill him."
Three gunmen raised their automatic rifles at Adrian.
I screamed and covered my ears.
But the gunfire didn't come from Moretti’s men.
The glass skylights above the carriage house shattered loudly.
Stun grenades dropped from the ceiling, exploding with blinding flashes of white light and deafening noise.
I squeezed my eyes shut as chaos erupted around us.
Automatic gunfire echoed through the garage.
Through the smoke, I saw dozens of men in black tactical gear repelling down from the roof.
They weren't Moretti’s men.
They wore the Cole family crest on their shoulders.
Adrian hadn't been buying time; he had been stalling for his elite strike team to arrive.
The smoke cleared slightly.
Don Moretti was on his knees, clutching a bleeding shoulder.
Adrian walked over to the old mafia boss, picking up his fallen handgun.
May you like
He aimed it directly at Moretti’s head.
"You should have retired, old man," Adrian whispered.
