BLOODLINES BORN IN SHADOW: A PATRIARCH RECLAIMS HIS OWN

Sal didn't blink at the four red dots dancing across his tailored vest. He kept his eyes locked on Victor's scarred face.

""You always were surrounded by cheap muscle, Victor,"" Sal said, his thumb subtly resting on the heavy titanium ring on his right pinky finger. ""You think numbers mean control. You never learned that loyalty isn't something you can buy with dirty venture capital.""

Victor scoffed. ""These men are ex-special forces, Sal. Five thousand dollars a day. They don't have loyalty; they have contracts. And the contract specifies your blood on this concrete.""

""Let's see if their health insurance covers me,"" Sal murmured.

Sal didn't dive for cover; he stepped forward, snapping his wrist up. His custom Sig Sauer roared three times. The first mercenary collapsed instantly, shot through the throat before he could pull the trigger. Sal immediately pivoted behind an engine block of a nearby sedan as a barrage of suppressed 5.56 rounds tore into the metal, shredding tires and shattering windshields in a cascade of glittering glass.

From the garage entrance ramp above, the roar of twin V8 engines tore through the night.

A black Cadillac Escalade barrelled down the ramp, tires screeching as it slammed violently into the side of Victor’s armored Suburban, crushing one mercenary between the chassis with a sickening crunch. The doors of the Escalade flew open, and three of Sal’s trusted lieutenants poured out, weapons barking in synchronized rhythm.

The crossfire turned the underground garage into a roaring slaughterhouse.

Victor cursed, retreating toward the lower maintenance stairwell. Sal broke from his cover, sprinting through the smoke with terrifying speed for a man his age. He vaulted over the crushed hood of a car and fired two rounds through the arm of the remaining mercenary, dropping him instantly.

Sal kicked the maintenance door open just in time to see Victor sprinting downward into the darkness toward the subway access tunnels below.

Sal paused only to swap his empty magazine for a fresh one. He clicked the radio on his shoulder. ""Frank, is the bird in the air?""

""Chopper is airborne, Boss,"" Frank’s voice crackled through. ""Elena and the baby are safe. We're en route to the safehouse in the Adirondacks. But Boss... there's a problem.""