Chapter 5 - The Collapse of the House of Romano
The enforcer’s shotgun dropped from his hands as a sniper round from the gantry crane blew the weapon into splinters. At the same moment, Nick Caruso and his tactical team swarmed out from the shadows behind the stacked containers, weapons drawn and locked onto Salvatore’s men before they could raise their barrels.
“Drop them! On the ground! Now!” Nick roared, kicking the legs out from under the nearest gunman.
Salvatore stumbled backward, his face twisting in frantic rage as he realized he had been outmaneuvered at every turn. “You think the feds care about a corporate dispute? I’ll be out on bail before breakfast—”
“You won't be seeing breakfast, Salvatore,” Adrian said, walking slowly toward him through the rain. “Because while you were waiting out here in the freezing wind to ambush me, federal marshals were executing search warrants at your Long Island headquarters, your Brooklyn warehouses, and your daughter’s penthouse.”
Salvatore lunged forward with a hidden switchblade, lunging blindly toward Adrian’s chest.
Adrian didn't even blink. He caught Salvatore’s wrist mid-air with lightning speed, twisting the older man’s arm upward until a sickening pop echoed through the damp air. Salvatore screamed, dropping the knife into the mud as Adrian slammed him hard against the side of a rusted container.
“That’s for my mother,” Adrian whispered, his face inches from Salvatore’s sweat-slicked forehead. “And this is for the dog.”
With a single, effortless motion, Adrian swept Salvatore’s legs out from under him, sending the Romano patriarch crashing face-first into the muddy puddles of the pier.
Nick stepped up, clicking steel handcuffs onto Salvatore’s wrists with practiced efficiency. “Federal agents are sweeping the perimeter now, boss. They’ve got Vivian in custody at the estate.”
Adrian didn't answer immediately. He turned away from the struggling, cursing mobster and walked toward the wire-mesh cage where the giant Neapolitan mastiff was scratching weakly at the door.
Adrian dropped to his knees in the mud, ignoring the ruin of his expensive wool coat. He slid the heavy brass key into the padlock, turned it with a sharp click, and pulled the cage door open.
A massive, gray-black head lifted slowly.
For a second, yellow, rheumy eyes blinked against the harsh light. Then a low, rumbling whine rose from deep within the dog’s chest.
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“Hey, old man,” Adrian whispered, his voice cracking for the first time in fifteen years. He wrapped his arms around the massive, heavy neck, burying his face against the thick fur as Bruno let out a long, shuddering sigh and leaned his full weight against Adrian’s chest.
“Resta,” Adrian murmured against the dog’s ear. “You stayed.”
