Chapter 20 - Flight to the Windy CityThe private Gulfstream G650 sliced smoothly through the night sky at 41,000 feet, cruising northward above a blanket of silvery clouds toward Chicago. Inside the luxurious cabin, illuminated by soft recessed LED lighting, Vincent Moretti sat at a polished walnut desk reviewing high-resolution satellite imagery and architectural blueprints of a heavily fortified commercial warehouse located in an industrial sector on Chicago’s North Side.
Marcus walked down the carpeted aisle, holding a crystal tumbler filled with scotch and ice, setting it gently on the desk.
“Flight plan is locked, Boss,” Marcus reported smoothly. “We’ll touch down at a private airstrip outside Rockford in forty minutes. Dante and an advanced tactical unit are already on the ground in Chicago, having infiltrated the city via our freight shipping lines. All six strike teams are positioned around Rossi’s North Side compound.”
Vincent took a slow sip of his scotch, his eyes never leaving the architectural schematics of the compound. “And the local authorities?”
“Bribed, compromised, or completely unaware,” Marcus replied with a confident smirk. “Rossi operates with impunity because he believes nobody dares to challenge him on his home turf. He won't know what hit him until our men are kicking down his front doors.”
Vincent nodded slowly, his mind drifting briefly back to Atlanta—to Lila playing happily with Rusty in the sunroom under the watchful protection of his most trusted guards. Knowing his daughter was safe allowed him to focus entirely on the brutal, necessary task of eradicating the remaining threat to his empire.
In the underworld, peace was never permanent; it had to be constantly defended with blood, iron, and absolute dominance. Salvatore Rossi had made the fatal mistake of stepping into Vincent Moretti’s crosshairs.
“Make sure Dante’s teams use non-lethal suppressing fire on the perimeter guards,” Vincent instructed quietly, his voice carrying the chilling authority of an apex predator. “I want Rossi alive. I want him to look me in the eye when I dismantle his entire empire piece by piece.”
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“Understood, Boss,” Marcus replied, turning toward the cockpit to relay the final operational commands.
The private jet banked smoothly through the clouds, its sleek wings cutting through the freezing night air, hurtling toward a showdown that would reshape the criminal landscape of America.
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