CHAPTER 19 — The Final Verdict of the Underworld
Marcus Salvatore backed away along the metal catwalk until his spine hit the rusted railing, his hands shaking so violently he dropped his submachine gun to the concrete floor below.
Please, Moretti, Salvatore choked out, blood trickling from a graze on his forehead.
Spare me! I’ll leave Chicago forever! I swear I’ll never touch your family!
Vincent stepped onto the catwalk, towering over the terrified syndicate heir like an executioner standing before the guillotine.
You crossed a sacred line, Vincent whispered, his voice dropping into a terrifyingly calm register.
You brought a gun into a public park where my son was playing.
You threatened the only two people on this earth who gave my miserable life any real meaning.
Salvatore squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the fatal shot to pierce his skull.
Instead, Vincent holstered his weapon, grabbed Salvatore by the collar of his shirt, and lifted him effortlessly over the edge of the railing, holding him suspended twenty feet above the concrete floor by one hand.
Listen to me very carefully, Salvatore, Vincent commanded, his dark eyes burning with absolute authority.
You are going to take your men, get on a cargo ship bound for South America by sunrise, and never set foot in North America again.
If I ever hear your name whispered in the wind of this city again, I won't just kill you.
I will erase your entire bloodline from history.
Vincent loosened his grip, dropping Salvatore onto the metal grating below, where the younger man scrambled away on his hands and knees like a beaten animal.
May you like
Get out of my city, Vincent spat coldly, turning his back on him as he walked down the stairs.
The underworld had its king back, but as Vincent stepped out into the cool night air, he knew his true allegiance belonged entirely to the woman waiting for him in Milwaukee.
