CHAPTER 21
FRANCIS
“Cugino, I can be there in just a few hours. Wait for me.”
Arguing with Luca had aggravated Francis’ already splitting headache. He needed to end the call and get to work. Once again, his family was under attack. This time, Francis planned to take the war to the enemy. His intention was to end their entire bloodline.
“No, Luca. You'll stay in Chicago and look after our family. I’ll handle things in Europe.”
“Lorenzo can handle things here. I won't allow you to—”
“You won't allow?” Francis hissed into the phone. “GioLuca, who the fuck are you to…no…wait. Who the fuck am I?”
“Sei il capo,” Luca relented.
“Am I the boss, Luca? Or are you?”
“Si, sei il capo.”
“Protect our family, our children. That is your job. Lei capisce?”
“Si, I understand,” Luca sighed wearily.
Francis knew that Luca worried for him, but theirs was a dangerous business, and Francis was never above fighting on the front line.
“Cugino, go and reassure your donna that your wedding will take place on time, and I will go and assure our family’s longevity. Don’t worry for the one who has taught you everything that you know. Take comfort, Luca. The situation will be handled…my way.”
With no further opposition from Luca, Francis ended the call. He leaned back in his office chair and studied the family tree that Paolo had given him. In one night, Francis intended to wipe out generations of Romanovs. The Russians had stolen enough of his family’s peace.
Paolo, dressed in all black, entered the doorway of his office. “The plane is ready, and the car is out front.”
“Bene.”
Francis grabbed the firearm from his desk and stood. He secured it in his shoulder holster and snatched his M-16 that was propped up against the side of his desk. The Russians had no idea what heat was. Weapons were his business, and Francis was about to bring them the business. He had dispatched four teams of soldiers with instructions to annihilate. Complete havoc was to be wreaked in the Ukraine, Russia, Krakow, and United States. Francis was leaving no stone unturned.
****
In the black, quiet of the night, the only thing that Francis could hear was the sound of dry, dead leaves crunching under the feet of his men. They had already taken out the men that were securing the massive compound. Paolo had disabled the flimsy security system, and located a breech in the servant’s quarters.
“Andiamo,” Francis whispered.
He and his team entered the compound. They crept quietly until they entered the main house. In order to kill as many Romanovs as possible, stealth would be necessary. Utilizing silencers, he and his men killed most of the occupants, but orders were to save Vladi Romanov for the don.
Once the compound was secure, Francis walked into the great room. Vladimir Romanov was on his knees. Next to him, his wife and two young daughters.
“Check the house,” Francis said to a few of his men.
A handful of men scrambled throughout the house in search of stragglers.
“Will you not spare the women?” Vladi asked in desperation.
Francis looked into the eyes of Vladi’s young wife and his daughters. He thought of Katya Romanov, Vladi’s niece, the woman that had tormented his family. She was a loose end that had come out of nowhere. Francis didn't plan on leaving loose ends.
“No,” he said with a calm that prompted cries from the women, and desperate pleas from Vladi.
“I have not wronged you in any way. My wife, my children, certainly have not wronged you. Why have you come into our home to threaten our lives?”
When met with silence, Vladi began to beg for the lives of his wife and children.
Francis was not moved. He put a bullet between the eyes of Vladimir’s beautiful young wife. It may have seemed cold, but Vladi’s wife, Alyonia, was as maniacal as her husband. She, herself, was from a long line of Russian mafia. A whore to the Bratva. And she would, without a doubt, plot her revenge.
Paolo pointed his weapon at the Russian’s young daughter, but Francis stopped him.
“No,” Francis said to his loyal friend and soldier.
He wouldn’t place the burden of killing children on Paolo. That horrific task would be Francis’ and his alone. Paolo lowered his weapon and turned his back to the girls. Francis pointed his weapon at the eldest Romanov girl, but something inside wouldn’t allow him to pull the trigger. He stared down at the frightened girl. She couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen. They sobbed as they clung to one another, and Francis realized that he was not so far gone as to murder innocent children. His family was important, the most important, but Francis was no monster. Maybe he would come to regret his inaction in the future. If so, he would deal with it then.
