Chapter 29
The fortified Commission bunker in the Catskills was a masterpiece of paranoia, surrounded by electrified fences and heavily armed patrols. Don Salvatore sat in the underground command center, his rosy face pale and sweaty, screaming at his lieutenants.
"How did a hundred of our best men fail to breach one estate?!" Salvatore roared, slamming his fist onto the table. "Raffaele Marconi is just one man!"
Before his lieutenants could answer, the heavy steel doors of the bunker shuddered violently. A deafening, concussive explosion rocked the entire underground complex, plunging the room into darkness. The backup red emergency lights flickered on, casting eerie shadows over the panicked bosses.
"They hit the ventilation shafts with precision explosives!" a guard yelled, rushing into the room. "The Marconi strike team bypassed the perimeter by air-dropping directly onto the roof!"
Salvatore drew his weapon, his hands trembling. "Barricade the doors!"
It was too late. The heavy steel doors blew inward, torn off their hinges by a massive shaped charge. Smoke and fire billowed into the command center.
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Raffaele stepped through the smoke, a monolithic figure of vengeance. He wore heavy tactical gear, his suppressed weapon raised, flanked by his elite operators. He didn't say a word. He simply raised his rifle and systematically executed the armed guards, moving with the terrifying, inevitable grace of a predator.
Within thirty seconds, Don Salvatore was the only man left alive in the room. He dropped his gun, falling to his knees on the concrete floor, entirely broken by the sheer, absolute dominance of the young Mafia boss.
