Chapter 7 - The Last Strike of the Serpent
A week of absolute bliss followed.
The Starks estate was no longer a gloomy, silent fortress filled with fear. The sound of children’s laughter echoed through the high-ceilinged halls every afternoon. Lily and Rose spent their days playing in the sprawling gardens, blossom-filled orchards, and art rooms, with Veronica constantly by their side.
Rory worked from his home study, refusing to leave the estate for long periods. Whenever he stepped out of a meeting with his lieutenants, his first stop was always wherever Veronica was. A gentle touch on her waist, a quick, passionate kiss behind closed pantry doors, or a shared glance across a crowded dining room—their connection grew deeper with every passing day.
However, in the underground world, a wounded snake is at its most dangerous before it dies.
On a rainy Thursday afternoon, while Rory was at the harbor overseeing the final absorption of the Moretti shipping yards, a heavy convoy of security vehicles pulled up to the estate gates.
Marco sat in the security command room, monitoring the feed. Suddenly, the main gate camera went dead with a shower of static.
BOOM!
A deafening explosion rocked the front entrance of the estate. The heavy iron gates were blown inward by a specialized breaching charge.
Two dark armored vans smashed through the perimeter, firing automatic weapons at the Starks guards stationed along the driveway.
In the second-floor playroom, Veronica immediately shoved Lily and Rose behind a heavy oak bookshelf. “Stay down! Don't move until I come get you!”
“Veronica!” Rose cried out, clutching her sister’s hand.
Veronica pulled a sleek, silver handgun from a hidden holster beneath her blazer—a gift from Rory three days prior. “I’ll be right back. Lock the playhouse door from the inside!”
Downstairs, chaos had erupted.
Antonio Moretti, completely insane with desperate vengeance, had used the last of his black-market funds to hire twenty foreign mercenaries to execute a suicide strike on the Starks estate. He knew he couldn't win the war, but he was determined to drag Rory and Veronica down to hell with him.
Mercenaries in tactical gear flooded the grand foyer, trading heavy gunfire with Marco and the Starks security team.
Veronica descended the rear service stairwell like a shadow. She knew the layout of the mansion better than anyone—she had cleaned every inch of it for three months.
She flanked two mercenaries stepping into the main hallway, firing three precise shots that dropped them instantly. She moved with terrifying grace, her years of survival instincts taking full control.
“Veronica! Behind you!” Marco screamed from across the balcony, firing his assault rifle to cover her as another mercenary burst through the glass doors.
Veronica spun, dodging behind a marble pillar as bullets tore through the plaster. She returned fire, neutralizing the threat with calm, icy precision.
Suddenly, a heavy boot kicked open the double doors of the study.
Antonio Moretti walked into the grand foyer, holding a military-grade detonator in his trembling, scarred hand. His eyes were wild, bloodshot, and completely devoid of reason.
“Where is he?!” Antonio shrieked, his voice echoing over the gunfire. “Where is Starks?! Where is my traitorous daughter?!”
Veronica stepped out from behind the marble pillar, holding her weapon steady, pointed directly at her father’s chest.
“I’m right here, Antonio,” Veronica said, her voice dropping into a cold, lethal calm. “Drop the detonator.”
Antonio laughed maniacally, pointing at the explosive vests worn by three of his mercenaries standing near the mansion’s support pillars. “I’ve wired the entire ground floor! If I press this button, this whole mansion collapses! Your precious little girls will be buried under fifty tons of marble!”
Veronica’s blood ran cold, but her hand didn't shake a millimeter. “You would murder your own granddaughters?”
“They are Starks spawn!” Antonio spat. “They mean nothing to me!”
Before Antonio could press his thumb onto the red switch, a dark figure materialized behind him like a demon rising from the shadows.
Rory Starks had returned.
He hadn't come through the front door. He had cut through the rear terrace glass silently while the chaos unfolded.
Rory reached around Antonio’s neck with a thick black tactical wire, yanking the old Don backward with violent, terrifying force. With his other hand, Rory grabbed Antonio’s wrist, snapping the bones instantly.
The detonator clattered onto the polished floor.
Veronica lunged forward, sliding across the slick tile, and scooped up the detonator, instantly flipping the safety lock off.
Antonio gagged for air as Rory lifted him completely off his feet by his throat, slamming him against the wall beneath the grand staircase.
The remaining mercenaries, seeing their boss captured and the detonator secured, immediately dropped their weapons, raising their hands in surrender as Marco’s men surrounded them.
The gunfight was over in less than four minutes.
Rory held Antonio pinned against the wall, his dark eyes burning with an infernal fury that made the room temperature drop ten degrees.
“You came into my home again,” Rory whispered, his voice vibrating against Antonio’s pale face. “You threatened my daughters again.”
“Rory... please...” Antonio choked out, his hands clawing uselessly at Rory’s iron grip. “I’m... I’m a Don...”
“You are nothing,” Rory said flatly.
Rory snapped Antonio’s neck with a single, swift motion.
The body of Don Antonio Moretti crumpled onto the cold floor, the reign of the Moretti Crime Syndicate officially ending forever.
Rory stood over the body for a long second, his breathing heavy. Then, he turned around.
He didn't look at the dead mercenaries. He didn't look at the damaged foyer.
He looked at Veronica, standing ten feet away, holding the detonator in her hands, her hair slightly tousled, but completely unharmed.
Rory walked over to her, taking the detonator from her hands and tossing it to Marco. Then, he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, pulling her into his chest with a desperate, crushing embrace.
Veronica buried her face into the crook of his neck, smelling the gunpowder and rain on his jacket, feeling his heart pounding wildly against her cheek.
“Are you hurt?” he rasped into her hair, his hands scanning her back and shoulders furiously. “Did they touch you?”
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“I’m fine, Rory,” she whispered, kissing his jaw. “I’m completely fine. The girls are safe upstairs.”
Rory closed his eyes, letting out a long, shuddering breath. He kissed her deeply right there in the ruined foyer, surrounded by his men, marking her as his ultimate salvation.
