The Wolf Unleashed
Chapter 08 - The Wolf Unleashed
Dante fired his assault rifle continuously as he walked down the stairs, dropping two mercenaries who tried to cross his path. When his rifle ran dry, he dropped it, drew two high-caliber handguns from his tactical vest, and kept moving forward without slowing down for a single second.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Mercenaries fell one by one like dominoes under his ruthless, terrifying assault. The remaining attackers panicked, overwhelmed by the sheer, inhuman ferocity of the man advancing on them.
Dominic Falcone’s grin vanished instantly. Terror flared in his eyes as he saw Dante walking through the smoke and gunfire, untouched, unyielding, his eyes burning with the cold light of a demon.
“Kill him! Shoot him!” Dominic shrieked, backing away toward the open front door.
His last two bodyguards raised their weapons, but Dante ducked beneath their line of sight, grabbed the first guard by his tactical vest, and drove a combat knife deep into his ribs. He used the guard’s body as a shield against the second shooter, spun around, and fired three rounds straight into the second guard’s helmet.
In less than ninety seconds, the entire front foyer was silent, littered with the fallen bodies of Dominic’s strike team.
Dominic stumbled backward out onto the rain-slicked stone driveway, dropping his empty rifle, falling onto his back in a deep puddle of muddy water.
Dante walked out onto the porch, the heavy rain instantly soaking his black tactical gear and washing the gunpowder residue from his face. He walked down the stone steps, standing over Dominic Falcone like a dark god of vengeance.
“Dante... please!” Dominic begged, scrambling backward on his hands and knees through the mud, his voice high-pitched and hysterical. “It was a business decision! We can make a deal! I’ll give you all the Manhattan ports! I’ll give you millions!”
Dante reloaded his handguns with a smooth, metallic click.
“You mentioned my sons, Dominic,” Dante said, his voice quiet, steady, and terrifyingly cold over the sound of thunder.
“I was lying! I swear I didn't touch them!” Dominic cried, tears mixing with the rain on his pale face. “Spare me! Please!”
“My wife died two years ago,” Dante said, stepping right up to Dominic’s trembling form. “I spent two years waiting for the man responsible to show his face. Thank you for coming to my home.”
Dante raised his weapon, aimed it directly between Dominic Falcone’s eyes, and pulled the trigger.
BANG.
Dominic’s body went limp in the mud. The Falcone syndicate’s reign of terror was officially wiped out forever.
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Dante stood in the pouring rain for a long moment, breathing heavily, letting the cold water wash the blood and violence from his hands.
Then, remembering the boys, he turned on his heel and sprinted back inside the mansion, taking the stairs three at a time down toward the wine cellar.
