Chapter 4 - The Serpent's Ambition
While Mateo recovered under Mara’s watchful eye on the top floor of the Bellaro Tower, five miles away in a lavish private dining club in Gold Coast, Marco Bellaro was holding court.
Marco was thirty-five, sharp-featured, dressed in a ten-thousand-dollar Italian suit, his eyes gleaming with arrogant, unbridled ambition.
Sitting around a long marble conference table were the leaders of the four other major Chicago crime syndicates—men who controlled the city’s gambling, narcotics, construction unions, and political bribes.
"Mateo is dead," Marco lied smoothly, pouring cognac into crystal glasses for his guests. "His body is currently freezing at the bottom of a ravine in the Upper Peninsula. The throne of the Bellaro family is vacant."
A heavy, scarred man named Viktor—chief of the Northside Russian syndicate—leaned back in his chair, smoking a thick cigar.
"You speak bold words, Marco," Viktor growled in his heavy accent. "But Mateo’s personal army—the four hundred armored units—vanished from the northern barracks three hours ago. Where are they?"
Marco waved his hand dismissively, though a slight twitch appeared beneath his left eye. "They are leaderless dogs wandering the woods. My men are securing the downtown tower as we speak. By midnight tonight, at the Grand Gala at the Drake Hotel, I will officially assume the title of Don."
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the dining room were kicked open with a shattering crash!
Marco’s chief lieutenant staggered into the room, covered in blood, clutching his shattered shoulder.
"Marco!" the lieutenant screamed, falling to his knees. "It’s... it’s Mateo!"
Marco dropped his cognac glass, the crystal shattering against the marble floor. "What are you talking about?! Mateo is dead!"
"He’s alive!" the lieutenant gasped in pure terror. "He’s at the main tower! He just executed your five captains in the lobby! The entire city network has been locked down under his personal code!"
The four syndicate bosses at the table stood up simultaneously, drawing their sidearms, staring at Marco with utter disgust and terrifying realization.
"You lied to us, you foolish boy," Viktor growled, leveling his gun directly at Marco’s forehead. "You brought us into a war with a ghost!"
"Wait! Wait!" Marco pleaded, backing away with his hands raised in panic. "We can still kill him! He’s wounded! He was shot twice! He’s trapped in the penthouse!"
Viktor lowered his gun slowly, his eyes narrowing into cold calculation. "If he is wounded, he is weak. Tonight at the Drake Hotel... Mateo will come to reclaim his throne."
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Viktor looked at the other bosses, a dark, sinister grin spreading across his rugged face.
"We assemble every shooter we own," Viktor declared. "We turn the Drake Hotel into Mateo Bellaro’s tomb."
