Chapter 14 - Blood on the Cliffside
The Valenti coastal estate in Newport was built like an 18th-century fortress perched atop jagged, vertical cliffs overlooking the roaring Atlantic Ocean. High iron gates, automated motion-sensor turrets, and dozens of armed guards patrolled the manicured lawns.
Inside the lavish, chandelier-lit grand salon, Don Vittorio Valenti sat in his motorized wheelchair, hooked up to an array of medical monitors and an IV drip. Surrounding him were his three surviving captains, drinking vintage scotch and laughing heartily.
""To the demise of the mighty Julian Bell!"" one of the captains toasted, raising his glass. ""A young wolf who thought he could outsmart the old fox.""
Valenti coughed, a dry, raspy wheeze, but his sunken eyes gleamed with satisfaction. ""His pride killed him. Pride always does. Tomorrow, we send our teams to find that girl. A woman alone with a newborn baby cannot run forever. We will have that child's blood before the week is through.""
Suddenly, the grand salon was plunged into pitch darkness.
The captains froze, setting their glasses down, reaching instantly for their holstered weapons. ""What happened? Generator failure?""
Before anyone could move, the heavy mahogany double doors of the salon were blown inward off their hinges with a thunderous blast. Smoke and splinters filled the air.
Through the haze stepped a ghost.
Julian Bell walked into the salon, illuminated only by the faint moonlight streaming through the terrace windows. He moved without a sound, his silenced weapon spitting flashes of deadly fire before the captains could even draw their guns.
Three shots, three muffled cracks, and the three captains collapsed to the Persian rug, dead before their bodies hit the floor.
Don Valenti gasped, his heart monitor beeping frantically in a rising, terrified tempo. He tried to reverse his motorized wheelchair, but his trembling, withered fingers couldn't manipulate the joystick.
""You..."" Valenti choked out, his eyes wide with horror as he stared at the tall, battered figure advancing toward him. ""You died in the penthouse... Marcus said—""
""Marcus is dead,"" Julian said, his voice flat, stepping over the bodies of the fallen men. ""Your extraction teams are dead. And in ten minutes, federal agents will be storming this estate to seize every asset you possess.""
""Bell... please..."" the old patriarch begged, tears of genuine terror rolling down his wrinkled cheeks. ""I have billions... Swiss accounts... bearer bonds... I’ll give you everything! Just spare my life!""
Julian stood before the old man, looking down at him with utter disdain. He reached out and calmly disconnected the power cable to Valenti’s mechanical life-support system. The machine went silent with a dying hum.
Valenti gasped, his chest heaving as his breathing became shallow and strained.
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""You spent your whole life feeding on the blood of others, Vittorio,"" Julian whispered, leaning down. ""Thinking your power made you immortal. But a man who targets a newborn child doesn't deserve the air he breathes.""
Julian turned around and walked out through the shattered doors, leaving the dying patriarch alone in the dark, gasping for his final breaths amidst the silence of his crumbling empire.
