Chapter 10 - The Captured Mercenary and the Name That Changes Everything
The smoke cleared from the courtyard as the acrid smell of cordite mixed with the damp night air. Three mercenaries lay motionless on the cobblestones; the rest had fallen back into the shadows of the alleyways under Victor’s merciless counter-fire.
Dante stood over a lone survivor pinned against the brick wall by Victor’s heavy boot.
The man was bleeding from a shrapnel wound in his shoulder, his tactical vest torn and scorched.
“Who sent you?” Dante asked, pressing the cold barrel of his pistol against the center of the mercenary's forehead. “Give me a name, and I’ll let you crawl out of New York.”
The mercenary coughed, spitting a mixture of blood and saliva onto the pavement. He looked up at Dante with a twisted, defiant grin.
“You think the Russians wanted the girl, Moretti?” the man wheezed, laughing weakly. “Open your eyes. The order didn't come from Moscow. It came from your own shipping yards in Brooklyn. Marcus Reed sold the route. He’s the one who traded the medical files to the highest bidder.”
Dante froze.
Marcus Reed. His operations chief. The man who had stood by his side through every turf war for a decade.
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From across the courtyard, stepping out from the shadows near the burning gates, Marcus Reed stood holding a suppressed pistol, aiming it directly at Victor’s back.
“It’s a shame you survived the night, Boss,” Marcus called out, a cold, ambitious smile spreading across his face. “New York needs a new king. And the Moretti dynasty ends tonight.”
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