Chapter 7 - The Final Trap
Despite the victory in the boardroom, Vincent Moretti was not a man to go down quietly. Ruined, facing federal indictments, and hunted by Julian’s private security, the aging mob boss decided to execute one final, desperate act of revenge.
It was a rainy Thursday evening. Julian, Hannah, and Maya were returning to the upstate estate in their armored vehicle. As the convoy entered the long, winding private road through the dense woodland, a massive tree trunk suddenly crashed down onto the road ahead, blocking the path.
“Ambush!” Marcus shouted through the radio. “Reverse! Reverse now!”
But before the driver could shift gears, a heavy delivery truck rammed into the rear of the vehicle, pinning them between the log and the truck.
Five armed men wearing tactical gear and black masks jumped out from the woods, firing high-caliber weapons at the armored glass of the SUV. The bullets spider-webbed the glass, but the armor held.
Inside the vehicle, Hannah pulled Maya down onto the floorboard, covering the little girl’s body with her own. Maya was crying, holding her stuffed bunny tightly. “Mommy, the thunder is too loud!”
“Shh, baby, close your eyes. It’s just a game, I promise,” Hannah lied through her tears, her body shaking.
Julian’s face was a mask of pure fury. He pulled a sleek black pistol from the hidden compartment under his seat. “Marcus, deploy smoke. I’m going out.”
“Julian, no!” Hannah screamed, grabbing his hand. “You’ll be killed!”
Julian turned to look at her, his eyes softening for a brief second. He leaned down and kissed her lips—a sudden, passionate kiss that carried seven years of pent-up love and desperation. “Stay down, Hannah. I am going to end this tonight.”
Julian threw open the reinforced door just as Marcus deployed a thick cloud of white smoke around the vehicle.
Gunfire erupted through the fog. Julian moved like a shadow, his tactical training from his youth taking over. He fired three precise shots, neutralizing the men attacking the front of the vehicle. He swerved through the trees, flanking the remaining shooters.
Suddenly, a voice boomed through the trees. “Blackthorne! Drop the weapon, or I’ll blow this entire car to hell!”
Vincent Moretti stepped out of the smoke, holding a remote detonator in his hand. He had planted a C4 charge on the underside of the delivery truck pinning the SUV. His face was bloody, his eyes crazed with defeat. “You took everything from me, Julian! My ships, my money, my family! Now I’m taking your precious woman and your little brat!”
Julian stood thirty feet away, his gun lowered slightly. His mind raced. If Moretti pressed the button, the blast would breach the armored SUV.
“Look behind you, Vincent,” Julian said calmly.
Moretti scoffed. “You think I’m falling for that old trick—”
A sharp SNAP echoed through the forest. Sloane Avery stepped out from the shadows behind Moretti, holding a heavy hunting rifle she had taken from the estate’s guard post. She didn't hesitate. She fired a single shot, striking Moretti’s shoulder. The detonator flew out of his hand, landing harmlessly in the wet mud.
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Julian lunged forward, tackling Moretti to the ground, pinning the old mob boss’s face into the dirt.
“It’s over, Vincent,” Julian hissed, clicking a pair of heavy zip-ties around Moretti’s wrists as the sirens of the state police echoed in the distance. “The Blackthorne family doesn't hide in the shadows anymore. We own them.”
