Chapter 8 - The Ambush on the Cliff Road
The battle for the Rossi estate was short, brutal, and entirely one-sided.
Salvatore Moretti had assumed that by sending twelve seasoned mercenaries on a Sunday afternoon, he could catch the syndicate off guard while most of the guards were rotated out.
He had calculated wrong.
Lorenzo Rossi did not keep guards; he kept an army.
Within ninety seconds of breaching the front doors, Moretti’s strike team found themselves pinned in the grand foyer by crossfire from the balcony and the reinforced security alcoves. Glass from the massive crystal chandelier rained down like diamonds, shattering across the imported marble floor.
Lorenzo moved through the smoke like a ghost, his pistol barking twice, dropping two mercenaries before they could even raise their rifles toward the stairs.
At the bottom of the cliffside escape tunnel, Hunter stumbled out into the damp, salt-kissed air of the Atlantic shoreline, holding little Leo tight against her chest with one arm while gripping the revolver with the other.
A black sedan idling near the rocks flashed its headlights twice.
The rear door flew open, and Mateo stepped out, holding an assault rifle across his chest, scanning the cliffs above.
“Get in!” Mateo barked over the sound of crashing waves.
Hunter scrambled into the backseat of the sedan, pulling the baby down onto the floorboards just as a stray bullet pinged off the metal roof of the car.
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Mateo slammed the door shut, leaped into the front passenger seat, and yelled to the driver, “Step on it! Get them to the safe house in Montauk!”
The sedan tore away from the cliffs, kicking up gravel and spray as it vanished into the winding coastal road.
