Chapter 11 - Breaking the Grand Doors-1
The grand double doors of the Moretti mansion—carved from solid Italian walnut and reinforced with steel plating—stood before Alessandro like an imposing monument to a quarter-century of false security. From inside the darkened foyer, muffled shouts could be heard as Victor’s garrison scrambled to respond to the sudden breach at the perimeter gates.
"Gabriel, plant the breach charge on the right hinge," Alessandro commanded, walking steadily up the marble steps with his Beretta drawn. "Don't blow the whole frame; I want the wood intact."
"Copy that, boss," Gabriel murmured, stepping forward with a compact magnetic explosive charge. He slapped it expertly onto the heavy steel-reinforced hinge of the right door, attached the wireless detonator, and retreated three paces back behind the stone balustrade.
"Cover the upper windows! Snipers might still have angles from the roof overhang!" Gabriel barked to the loyalist operatives spread across the courtyard.
Alessandro stood slightly ahead of the team, his eyes locked on the brass doorknob of the mansion. Inside, through the frosted glass panels, flickering shadows moved frantically back and forth. Someone was shouting orders—the unmistakable, panicked voice of one of Victor’s tactical lieutenants trying to establish comms with the front gate.
"Fire in three... two... one..." Gabriel whispered, pressing the detonator switch.
THUD-BOOM!
A muffled, localized explosion ripped through the right hinge. The massive walnut door bucked violently inward, tearing free of its frame with a splintering crash that echoed off the vaulted ceiling of the foyer.
Before the smoke could even clear, Alessandro kicked the ruined door the rest of the way open, stepping across the threshold into his own home like an avenging ghost.
"Clear!" Gabriel shouted right behind him, entering in a low tactical stance with his HK416 raised, sweeping the grand marble staircase and the dim hallways branching off to the East Wing.
The foyer was deserted, but the air smelled of stale cigarette smoke, spilled coffee, and panic. Above them, on the second-floor gallery overlooking the grand chandelier, a figure in a dark tactical vest appeared at the railing, raising an assault rifle.
"Frag out!" the guard screamed, pulling the pin on a flashbang grenade.
"Take cover!" Alessandro roared.
Gabriel fired a single, controlled burst from his rifle before the guard could toss the grenade. The rounds struck home with a wet thud, and the guard slumped over the railing, tumbling over the side to crash heavily onto the Persian rug of the foyer floor below. The flashbang clattered harmlessly against the marble baseboard, detonating with a blinding white flash and a deafening POP that rattled the crystal pendants of the chandelier overhead.
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Through the ringing in his ears and the white spots dancing in his vision, Alessandro didn't pause. He stepped over the fallen guard and marched straight toward the grand staircase leading to the second-floor executive study.
Victor Salvatore was waiting upstairs. And the final reckoning had finally arrived.
