Chapter 6 - The Rooftop Chase
The first shot didn't come from Vincent’s men or the FBI. It came from Marco’s fake police officers, who opened fire directly on the federal tactical team to create a distraction.
"Clear the room!" Vincent yelled, grabbing Elena by the arm and pulling her toward the private executive elevator behind the desk while Frankie scooped up Sophia.
The sound of gunfire was deafening, a chaotic symphony of shattering glass, screaming men, and the heavy thud of flashbang grenades exploding in the narrow corridors. Agent Miller was thrown to the ground by the blast radius of a grenade, her weapon skittering across the slick floor.
Marco didn't care about the FBI. He didn't care about the money anymore. His eyes were entirely bloodshot, focused solely on Vincent. He broke into a sprint, firing wildly into the executive suite as the heavy steel elevator doors began to slide shut.
Clack. Clack.
Two rounds slammed into the reinforced glass of the elevator door just as it locked into place, ascending rapidly toward the rooftop helipad.
Inside the small metallic box, the silence was deafening compared to the war zone below. Elena was hyperventilating, holding Sophia so tightly the little girl could barely breathe. Vincent stood in the center, his face completely expressionless, checking the magazine of his custom silver pistol.
"He won't stop, Vincent," Elena whispered, her eyes wide with terror. "He’s insane. He has a helicopter waiting on the roof. He was going to use my keys to authorize the final transfer from the chopper before he left the country."
"He isn't leaving," Vincent said, his voice flat. "Not today. Not ever again."
The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open to reveal the blinding gray light of the misty morning. The rooftop was freezing, the wind whipping over the concrete ledge with a violent howl. Fifty yards away, the rotors of a black, unmarked helicopter were already spinning, the downwash throwing loose gravel and dust across the helipad.
Marco was already there. He had taken the service stairs, his adrenaline giving him a terrifying speed. He stood between Vincent’s family and the helicopter, a heavy submachine gun in his hands.
"End of the line, Vince!" Marco screamed over the roar of the helicopter blades. "Give me the manual bypass code for the offline servers, or I paint this roof with your accountant and her brat!"
Vincent stepped out onto the concrete, his coat flapping wildly in the wind. He didn't raise his weapon. He just walked toward his old brother with a calm, steady stride that defied the laws of survival.
"You want the code, Marco?" Vincent shouted back, his voice cutting through the roar of the engines. "Come and take it from me. Like you should have fifteen years ago."
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From the elevator bay behind him, a bloody and disheveled Agent Miller stumbled out onto the roof, her service weapon raised with trembling hands. "Both of you! Drop your weapons! It's over!"
But neither man looked at her. The real trap wasn't under the cars, and it wasn't in the servers. It was right here, on a cold roof, where fifteen years of hatred were finally down to the last few seconds of the clock.
