Chapter 7 - The Assault
The old meatpacking plant sat on the edge of the river, a decaying monument to Chicago’s industrial past.
The night was pitch black, a heavy fog rolling off the water, obscuring the movements of the four black SUVs that pulled up silently a block away.
Alessandro stepped out of the lead vehicle, wearing a heavy tactical vest over a black sweater, his face painted in absolute, deadly resolve.
He was accompanied by twenty of his most lethal enforcers, heavily armed and moving with silent, terrifying precision.
They didn't bother with stealth or negotiation; they were there to send a message that would echo through the underworld for decades.
Alessandro raised his hand, signaling the breach team, and pointed directly at the heavy steel front doors.
Two men stepped forward with a specialized battering ram, striking the doors with a deafening, explosive crash.
The steel gave way instantly, and the Moretti men poured into the dark, cavernous warehouse like a swarm of deadly hornets.
The Rossi guards inside were completely caught off guard, expecting a quiet negotiation, not a full-scale military assault.
Gunfire erupted immediately, lighting up the dark space with blinding, chaotic flashes.
Alessandro moved through the warehouse like a demon, his rifle firing with deadly, mechanical accuracy.
He didn't take cover; he simply walked forward, cutting down anyone who stood between him and the child.
The air quickly filled with thick smoke, the smell of cordite, and the screams of dying men.
“Sweep the upper offices!” Marco yelled over the deafening noise, providing covering fire as Alessandro moved toward a metal staircase.
Alessandro climbed the stairs, his boots slipping slightly on the blood-slicked metal, his eyes locked onto a heavy wooden door at the top.
He kicked the door open violently, his rifle raised, prepared to kill whoever was inside.
Inside the small, filthy office, Vincenzo Rossi, the head of the rival family, was standing behind a desk, holding a pistol to Emma’s head.
Emma was sitting on a dirty chair, clutching her cream-colored teddy bear tightly to her chest, her eyes wide with absolute terror.
“Drop the gun, Moretti, or I blow her head off!” Vincenzo screamed, his hand shaking violently, his face pale with panic.
He realized too late that he had underestimated Alessandro’s terrifying capacity for violence.
Alessandro didn't drop his weapon; he didn't even flinch.
He slowly lowered his rifle, letting it hang by the tactical sling, and stared directly into Vincenzo’s terrified eyes.
“You are a dead man, Vincenzo,” Alessandro said, his voice eerily calm, completely devoid of emotion.
“The only choice you have left is whether you die quickly, or whether I take days to peel the skin from your bones.”
“I’ll kill her!” Vincenzo shrieked, pressing the barrel harder against Emma’s temple.
Emma whimpered, tightly squeezing her eyes shut.
In that singular, split second, a massive, terrifying black shadow launched itself through the open office doorway.
It was Bruno.
Despite his heavily medicated state, the massive dog had followed the assault teams, driven by an ancient, protective instinct.
He didn't bark; he didn't growl.
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He simply launched his enormous, muscular body directly at Vincenzo’s chest, his massive jaws snapping shut violently around the man’s throat.
Vincenzo screamed, a horrific, gurgling sound, completely dropping the pistol as the massive dog dragged him backward to the floor.
