Chapter 7 - The Confrontation in the Rain
The heavy iron gates of the Moretti estate stood open against the dark, rain-soaked driveway. Three black SUVs were parked in a line outside the perimeter, their headlights cutting through the grey downpour. Four men in heavy coats stood near the lead vehicle, led by a tall, scarred man named Dominic—Julian’s former right hand.
Vincent walked down the stone driveway alone, carrying a heavy black umbrella. He wore his black trousers and a fitted wool coat over his shirt, his dark hair damp with rain. He stopped ten feet from Dominic, his expression as cold and unyielding as stone.
"You're standing on my land, Dominic," Vincent said, his deep voice carrying easily over the sound of falling rain.
Dominic took a step forward, his hand buried deep in his coat pocket. "We came for answers, Vincent. Julian was our captain. You locked him up and sent him away on the word of a servant girl. The West Side crew doesn't take orders from a man who lets maids run his house."
Vincent let out a short, cold breath that turned to steam in the chilly air.
"My brother tried to put poison in my food," Vincent said, taking a step closer. His broad shoulders blocked out the headlights behind him. "If any of you had been in that dining room, you would have let me die to take my territory. A six-year-old girl had more honor than all of you combined."
Dominic sneered, his hand shifting inside his coat. "Honor doesn't rule Chicago, Vincent. Power does."
Before Dominic could pull his hand from his pocket, four red laser dots appeared on his chest. From the high trees and balconies surrounding the driveway, Vincent's snipers leveled their sights on the four men.
May you like
Dominic froze, the color draining from his face as he looked up at the hidden positions.
"I rule Chicago," Vincent corrected softly, his voice dropping into a lethal whisper. "Get off my property. If I see any of your faces in this city by midnight, you will join my brother."
