Chapter 36 - The Broken Dynasty
The silence that followed was heavier than the polar ice.
Domenico looked between the young girl, his son rising from the snow with blood dripping from his chin, and the woman holding a gun to his head. For the first time in his legendary life, Don Domenico Falcone looked obsolete.
"You think you have won," Domenico whispered, his fingers trembling slightly against the silver head of his cane. "You think you can dismantle what took three generations to build. Vincent... do you really believe the Commission will let you live? If you destroy the ledger, you destroy the only shield that prevents the other four families from butchering every soul who carries our surname."
Vincent walked forward, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his tactical glove. He reached out and snatched the heavy cane from his father’s grip. Domenico tried to resist, but the strength had abandoned his ancient limbs.
With a sharp, violent twist, Vincent unscrewed the falcon head. Inside lay an intricate brass cylinder containing the cryptographic sequence that had held the underworld hostage for decades.
"The Commission is dead, Father," Vincent said coldly. "I had Sal and Marco execute the heads of the Genovese and Lucchese syndicates three hours ago while we were airborne. The Atlantic pact is over. The American mob belongs to history."
Domenico stumbled back against the helicopter strut, his chest heaving. "You... you burned the entire table?"
"I flipped it," Vincent replied. "Just like you should have done thirty years ago instead of murdering your wife."
Vincent tossed the silver cane onto the snow. He looked at Caterina. "Tie him up. Put him in the rear hold of the interceptor. He will spend the rest of his miserable life in an off-grid safehouse in Corsica, watching everything he built turn to dust on the news."
"No," Domenico growled, his eyes igniting with a desperate, animal madness. "I will not rot in a cage built by my ungrateful whelp!"
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With a sudden burst of violent energy, the old patriarch lunged toward the open helicopter cabin, his hand plunging into his inner pocket to retrieve a backup ignition flare. He aimed it directly at the aircraft's exposed fuel tank.
"If I don't rule," Domenico screamed, "the bloodline dies tonight!"
