Chapter 11
The old cathedral in Brooklyn was a massive, gothic structure that had been abandoned for a decade.
It was the perfect setting for a clandestine meeting, or an execution.
Julian arrived in a single armored sedan, accompanied only by Elias.
They walked up the crumbling stone steps, their long coats billowing in the freezing wind.
Inside, the cathedral was lit by hundreds of flickering candles, casting long, eerie shadows against the stained glass.
Carmine Russo stood at the altar, leaning heavily on a silver-tipped cane, surrounded by ten heavily armed guards.
"Julian," Carmine rasped, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. "You came."
"I always honor a formal invitation, Carmine," Julian replied calmly, stopping twenty feet away.
Carmine smiled, but it didn't reach his cold, dead eyes.
"You've cost me a lot of money and a lot of good men recently," Carmine said.
"Your nephew started this war," Julian reminded him. "I am simply finishing it."
Suddenly, the heavy wooden doors at the back of the cathedral slammed shut and locked from the outside.
From the shadows of the choir loft, Dante Russo emerged, holding a high-powered assault rifle.
He was laughing, a manic, unhinged sound that bounced off the vaulted ceilings.
"You really thought my uncle would hand me over to a piece of trash like you?" Dante sneered.
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Julian didn't look surprised; he didn't even flinch.
He just looked up at the highest bell tower above the altar.
