Chapter 8 - The Counter-Strike
The hunt was terrifyingly efficient.
From the war room set up in the penthouse library, I watched Alessandro dismantle a billion-dollar political dynasty in less than forty-eight hours.
I sat at the mahogany desk, a headset over one ear, analyzing the data dumps Dante sent over from the Cole family servers. I cross-referenced dates, times, and routing numbers, feeding the information directly to Alessandro.
"The shell company paying for Lorenzo’s protection," I called out, circling a series of transactions on my tablet. "It’s a nightclub in Hell’s Kitchen. The Velvet Room. It's owned by the Russian bratva, but the lease is signed under Vanessa Cole’s maiden name."
Alessandro stood across the room, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. His eyes gleamed with a predatory light.
"They're hiding him in the VIP basement," Alessandro deduced instantly. "Dante. Take ten men. Lock down the perimeter of The Velvet Room. Nobody goes in, nobody comes out."
"You aren't going to call the police?" I asked naively.
Alessandro let out a dark, humorless laugh. "The police work for me, Elena. But this is family business. The Coles tried to kill you and Emma in my house. Law enforcement doesn't handle that kind of disrespect. I do."
Over the next few hours, I witnessed the brutal reality of the mob. I didn't see the violence firsthand, but I heard the radio chatter. I heard the cold, tactical efficiency as Alessandro's men breached the nightclub.
“Target acquired. West stairwell.” “Two hostiles down. Proceeding to the basement.” “Boss, we have him.”
Alessandro pressed the button on his comms unit. "Is he breathing?"
“Barely. He put up a fight.”
"Good," Alessandro said, his voice utterly devoid of mercy. "Bring him to the Brooklyn warehouse. I'll meet you there."
He turned off the radio and grabbed his jacket. He looked at me, seeing the pale, wide-eyed shock on my face.
"This is the reality of my world, Elena," he said quietly, pausing by the door. "I am not a good man. I don't pretend to be. If this disgusts you, you can walk away. I will set you and Emma up with new identities and enough money to live comfortably for the rest of your lives."
He was giving me an out. The very thing I had begged for two days ago.
I looked at the monitors, at the empire he had built, at the blood he was willing to spill to keep us safe. Then I looked at the closed door of the guest room, where Emma was safely sleeping, protected by the most lethal men in the city.
"I'm not walking away," I said, lifting my chin, locking my eyes with his. "I'm your assistant. Who is going to read your ledgers if I leave?"
A slow, dangerous, beautiful smile spread across Alessandro's face.
May you like
"I'll be back," he promised.
He didn't return until dawn. When he did, he smelled of copper and rain, and Lorenzo Cole was no longer a problem.
