Chapter 9
The muffled, metallic clanking on the roof grew louder. Ryan’s ruggedly handsome face hardened into a mask of pure, lethal calculation. He knew if they dropped gas down the chimney, it would eventually seep through the floorboards and into the cellar where Emily and his daughters were hiding. He couldn't play defense anymore. He had to take the fight outside.
Ryan slung the tactical rifle over his broad shoulder and drew his suppressed handgun. He moved silently to the heavy oak back door, disengaging the deadbolts with practiced ease. The moment he pushed the door open, the cool, damp air of the Catskills washed over him.
He stepped out into the shadows of the back porch, his tailored black suit blending seamlessly into the darkness. Above him, he heard the heavy footsteps of two attackers maneuvering across the pitched roof toward the stone chimney.
Ryan didn't hesitate. He stepped out from the overhang, raised his weapon, and fired two precise shots upward through the wooden eaves. The suppressed thwips were followed immediately by a heavy groan. The roof shingles scraped violently as one of the attackers lost his footing, sliding off the edge and crashing heavily into the bushes below, incapacitated.
The second attacker on the roof panicked, blind-firing an automatic burst over the edge. The bullets chewed through the wooden deck inches from Ryan’s polished leather shoes. Ryan rolled fluidly behind a stack of firewood, returning fire. A single shot silenced the man above, leaving the roof clear.
But the noise had drawn the attention of the main assault team in the front.
"He’s out back! Flank him!" a voice commanded from the driveway.
Ryan abandoned the porch, sprinting into the dense treeline. He knew this terrain. He had mapped every inch of the woods when he bought the property. He moved like a ghost through the pines, circling around to flank his own flankers.
Three tactical operators advanced carefully through the brush, their laser sights sweeping the darkness. Ryan appeared behind them like a phantom. He disarmed the rearmost man with a brutal, silent strike to the neck, sending him unconscious to the forest floor. He spun the falling man’s body, using it as a momentary shield as the other two turned. Ryan fired twice, dropping both men instantly without a single drop of blood being shed—just the clean, concussive impact of his tactical prowess.
The woods grew eerily quiet. The assault team had been decimated. Out of the dozen men who had arrived, only a handful remained, pulling back toward the SUVs in a panic.
Ryan stepped out of the treeline, his weapon raised, advancing slowly toward the vehicles. The legendary Mafia boss looked terrifying, a force of vengeance wrapped in a torn, dust-covered tailored suit.
Only one man stood defiantly by the lead SUV. He wasn't wearing tactical gear. He wore a sharp, custom-made grey suit. He stepped into the moonlight, his hands raised in a mock surrender.
Ryan stopped, keeping his gun aimed squarely at the man’s chest.
"You always were impossible to kill, Ryan," the man said, his voice smooth and familiar.
Ryan’s eyes widened in genuine shock. The calm and composed demeanor he had fought so hard to maintain finally shattered.
It was Dominic, the underboss of the Chicago syndicate. A man who was supposed to be in federal prison for a life sentence.
"Dominic," Ryan breathed, his voice dangerously low. "How are you not behind bars?"
"I made a deal," Dominic smiled, stepping closer. "The feds wanted you, Ryan. I promised them I could deliver the great king of New York. But I needed leverage. So, I took a little trip into your past."
"You orchestrated this," Ryan growled, his finger tightening on the trigger. "You put Maya in the walls."
"It was poetic, don't you think?" Dominic laughed. "I found Isabella alive three years ago, hiding in a safe house in Europe. She thought she had escaped the life. I took her, and I took your bastard child. I knew if I dropped the girl into your lap, you would panic. You would leave your fortress. And here you are, isolated in the woods."
"Where is Isabella?" Ryan demanded, his commanding presence radiating pure menace.
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"Oh, she’s close," Dominic smiled wickedly, glancing toward the rear door of the SUV. "In fact, she wanted to see the look on your face when this all came crashing down."
Dominic reached back and slowly pulled the heavy door of the SUV open.
