Chapter 11 - FEDERAL BETRAYAL
The screech of tires pierced the night air.
Four black FBI SUVs blocked every exit from the burning estate.
Men in tactical gear poured out, rifles raised.
Stepping out from the lead vehicle was Assistant Director Thomas Vance.
Luca's uncle by marriage.
And the highest-ranking federal mole inside the Department of Justice.
Vance adjusted his expensive trench coat, a smug smile plastered across his face.
"Well, well, well," Vance called out, walking toward us through the rain and smoke. "Looks like your empire is literally burning to the ground, nephew."
Luca handed Leo to me, stepping in front of us like a protective wall.
"You're behind the Syndicate attacks," Luca stated, his voice like granite.
Vance chuckled, spreading his hands.
"Me? I'm just an officer of the law responding to a terrorism call at a known syndicate compound."
"You leaked the location of my son," Luca growled, closing the distance between them.
"I did what was necessary," Vance sneered. "With you and your father gone, the Syndicate takes over the city, and my offshore accounts get a very healthy deposit."
Federal agents raised their rifles, aiming directly at Luca.
"Drop your weapon, Luca!" Vance commanded.
Sal stepped up beside Luca, raising his pistol.
"I wouldn't do that, Director," Sal said calmly.
Vance laughed aloud.
"What is an old chauffeur going to do? Shoot all twenty of my men?"
Sal didn't blink.
"No. But my dashcam has been streaming live audio and video to every federal prosecutor and news outlet in Chicago for the last ten minutes."
Vance's smug smile vanished instantly.
Color drained from his face.
"What... what did you say?"
"Thirty-four years of driving teaches you a few tricks, Director," Sal said, patting the pocket of his driving coat. "Every bribe you ever paid. Every hit you ever ordered. It's all in the cloud right now."
Vance panicked, drawing his own sidearm and pointing it straight at Sal.
"Shoot them! Shoot them all!" Vance screamed to his agents.
None of the federal agents moved.
The lead tactical officer lowered his rifle.
"Stand down, Director Vance," the officer's radio crackled loudly. "Internal Affairs has just issued a warrant for your arrest."
Sirens wailed in the distance—real police sirens, accompanied by federal marshals.
May you like
Vance spun around, realizing he was completely trapped.
[CLIFFHANGER: Before Vance could pull the trigger on himself, Mr. Bellini—having escaped the burning house—tackled Vance to the ground, screaming, "You destroyed my family!"]
