Chapter 16: The Siege
The Rossi convoy tore through the slick, rain-battered streets of Boston like a phantom fleet. Fifteen black SUVs, headlights killed, moving with a synchronized, lethal purpose. Inside the lead vehicle, Dante sat in silence, double-checking the loaded magazine of his SIG Sauer. The rage that had nearly consumed him in the limousine had distilled into an icy, surgical focus.
Back at the Rossi estate, Aria was not hiding in her bedroom. She sat in Dante’s heavy leather chair in the study, flanked by four heavily armed guards. The glowing screens of the command center illuminated her determined face. She had direct contact with the editor of the Boston Chronicle. The digital presses were locked and loaded, waiting for her singular command.
"ETA two minutes, Boss," Matteo’s voice crackled over the secure earpiece Dante wore. "Sterling’s private security has perimeter patrols, but they’re rent-a-cops. They aren't ready for a heavy assault."
"Disarm them. Bind them. If they surrender, they live," Dante ordered coldly. "But anyone who raises a weapon to defend that house gets put in the ground. Is that clear?"
"Crystal."
The convoy didn't bother with the intercom at the Sterling estate’s wrought-iron gates. The reinforced bumper of the lead truck smashed through the ironwork, tearing the gates off their hinges.
Chaos erupted instantly. The floodlights flared, and sirens wailed across the manicured lawns. Sterling’s security detail, entirely unprepared for a paramilitary strike from the city’s premier crime syndicate, scrambled to respond. But Dante’s men were a well-oiled machine. Before the guards could even unholster their weapons, lasers danced across their chests, and warning shots shattered the pavement at their feet. The guards wisely dropped their guns, falling to their knees with their hands raised.
Dante stepped out into the driving rain, his tactical vest heavy, his eyes locked on the grand mahogany doors of the mansion. The same doors Aria had been trapped behind for twenty-two years.
Matteo stepped forward with a breaching shotgun, blowing the heavy brass locks completely off the wood. Dante kicked the doors open, stepping into the grand foyer where he had stood weeks ago.
"Clear the house!" Dante roared, his voice bouncing off the vaulted ceilings. "Find them!"
His enforcers flooded the mansion, tearing through the opulent rooms, smashing through the curated facade of the Sterling family. Dante walked methodically up the grand staircase, his weapon drawn. He didn't need to search. He knew exactly where a rat would hide when the ship was sinking.
He reached the heavy oak doors of the Senator’s private study, took a step back, and kicked them open with a splintering crash.
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Inside, Senator Arthur Sterling was frantically shoving stacks of documents into a heavy-duty shredder. In the corner, confined to a high-end wheelchair with a wired jaw and casts on both arms, sat Julian Sterling, his eyes wide with absolute, primal terror.
Dante stepped into the room, leveling his weapon. "Stop."
