Chapter 10
The estate was plunged into absolute, suffocating darkness as the exterior floodlights were abruptly cut. From the security monitors in the war room, Cullen watched in infrared vision as the four massive, black Suburbans crawled silently up the long driveway. The heavy iron gates, deliberately left unlocked, were pushed open by the lead vehicle.
The Mercers had arrived.
The vehicles pulled into the expansive, enclosed stone courtyard in front of the mansion. The doors of the SUVs swung open simultaneously. Through the green hue of the night-vision cameras, Cullen watched as nearly forty men poured out of the vehicles. They were armed to the teeth, carrying suppressed submachine guns, moving with the quiet, arrogant confidence of an invading army that believed the castle was already theirs.
At the center of the formation stood Don Mercer. The older man wore a long cashmere overcoat, holding a silver-headed cane. He looked up at the darkened mansion, clearly expecting his daughter to step out and welcome him to his new empire.
"They are in the kill box, Boss," Vincent whispered, staring at the monitors. "Snipers have the Don painted."
"Do not shoot the Don," Cullen said, his voice a low, terrifying hum. "I want him alive. Kill the rest."
Cullen picked up the radio. He pressed the transmission button, his thumb resting heavily on the plastic.
"Fire," Cullen whispered.
The courtyard instantly erupted into a blinding, deafening hellscape. The silence of the night was shattered by the roaring thunder of heavy machine-gun fire raining down from the parapets. The cinematic, bright flashes of muzzle fire strobed across the security monitors like violent lightning.
The Mercer men didn't even have time to raise their weapons. Caught entirely out in the open, trapped within the high stone walls of the courtyard, they were cut down with merciless, calculated precision. Glass shattered, tires blew out, and bodies dropped to the cobblestones. It was not a battle; it was a slaughter.
In less than forty-five seconds, the gunfire ceased.
The courtyard was deathly quiet once again, save for the hissing of punctured radiators and the groans of the dying.
"Cease fire," Cullen ordered into the radio. "Secure the Don."
Cullen turned and walked out of the war room, ascending the stairs to the main floor. The heavy front doors of the mansion were pulled open by his guards. Cullen stepped out into the cool night air. The sharp metallic scent of gunpowder and blood hung thick over the estate.
Don Mercer was kneeling on the cobblestones, surrounded by the bodies of his elite guard. His cashmere coat was torn, his silver cane resting in a pool of blood. Two of Cullen’s massive bodyguards stood over him, their rifles aimed directly at his head.
Cullen walked slowly down the stone steps. His polished shoes crunched over broken glass. He stopped just inches away from the kneeling patriarch.
Don Mercer looked up, his fair face pale and twisted with absolute terror as he realized the man standing before him was not a corpse.
"You..." Don Mercer gasped, his voice trembling. "Tove said..."
"Tove is currently weeping in a soundproof cell beneath this courtyard," Cullen said slowly, his voice deep, raspy, and incredibly lethal. He looked down at the ruined Mafia boss with cold, sharp, intimidating eyes. "You sent your daughter to kill my child. And in return, I have erased your entire syndicate in less than a minute."
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Don Mercer began to weep, realizing the absolute totality of his defeat.
Cullen raised his suppressed pistol, aiming it directly at the Don’s kneecap. The war had been won, but the punishment was only just beginning.
