Chapter 5 - The Siege of Moretti Manor
Darkness lasted only three seconds before the emergency battery lamps flickered to life, casting eerie yellow beams across the stone walls of the wine cellar.
"They're not waiting for dawn," Julian said calmly, his instincts as a battle-hardened Don taking over completely. He turned to Daniel. "Cut Michael's ties."
Daniel hesitated. "Boss?"
"Cut them," Julian repeated. "Michael is an idiot, but he’s still a Moretti. If he wants to live through the night, he picks up a gun and defends his home."
Michael’s eyes went wide as Daniel sliced the plastic restraints. Rubbing his wrists, he picked up a spare tactical sidearm from the crate near the rack. "Julian... I'm sorry. I'll make this right."
"Stay behind Daniel and protect Allison," Julian ordered. Then he looked at Elliot. "How many men did you bring?"
"Eight outside, four on the roof," Elliot answered, pulling two compact submachine guns from beneath an oak table. "They’re trained for urban warfare, but the Falcones brought heavy armor. We need to funnel them into the courtyard where your automated turrets can pin them down."
"The turrets are locked to my biometric terminal in the grand ballroom," Julian said, racking the slide of his Kimber. "We go up together."
The group moved rapidly through the secondary service tunnel, emerging behind the kitchen pantry on the main floor. The sounds of high-caliber rifle fire echoed through the grand hallways, shattering crystal chandeliers and century-old mirrors into thousands of sparkling shards.
Julian led the charge, firing two precise shots that took down a Falcone operative advancing toward the dining hall. Elliot moved in tandem, sweeping the left flank with lethal efficiency. Despite never having fought side-by-side before, the brothers moved like two halves of the same predatory instinct—their father’s blood unmistakably guiding their aim.
They pushed into the grand ballroom. The once-luxurious party hall was now a smoking warzone. Silk drapes were in flames, and the towering champagne fountain had collapsed into a sea of red foam and broken glass.
At the far end of the ballroom, standing behind a barricade of overturned mahogany tables, stood Victoria. She was no longer wearing her evening gown; she had slipped into a tactical Kevlar vest, holding an automatic rifle with steady, trained hands. Flanking her were six heavily armed mercenaries bearing the Falcone family insignia.
"Give it up, Julian!" Victoria screamed over the sound of gunfire. "My father’s men control the entire perimeter! You’re trapped inside your own tomb!"
"You made a mistake coming into my house, Victoria," Julian yelled back, ducking behind a marble pillar as bullets chewed through the stone.
"Look behind you, Julian!" she mocked. "Where is your beloved maid now?"
Julian glanced toward the rear corridor. In the chaos of the firefight, Michael had separated from the group. He had led Allison toward the private library to shield her, but two Falcone operatives were already closing in on their position.
"Daniel, cover the rear!" Julian barked.
"On it!" Daniel charged back toward the library, weapon blazing.
Elliot slid beside Julian behind the pillar, reloading his weapon with a calm grin despite the hail of bullets flying over their heads. "We have about two minutes before their reinforcements breach the south gate, brother. What's the plan?"
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Julian glanced at the control panel ten yards away, directly beneath Victoria’s field of fire. "We don't need two minutes. We just need to give her a reason to look away."
***
