Chapter 11 - The Father's Return
While Dante was leading a full-scale assault on the Falcone syndicate in Chicago, Marco Silva made a desperate, cowardly play. Salvatore Falcone had secretly tipped Marco off to the safehouse’s general location in Wisconsin before Dante’s communications went dark.
Marco, heavily in debt and desperate to offer Falcone a bargaining chip, had hired two local mercenaries. They bypassed the outer perimeter alarms by trekking through the heavy snow on foot.
Inside the cabin, Maria was putting Elena to bed. Suddenly, the glass of the patio door shattered inward. Maria screamed, grabbing a heavy iron fireplace poker as Marco stepped through the broken glass, holding a handgun.
“Hello, Maria,” Marco sneered, looking around the opulent cabin. “Looks like you upgraded. Didn't take you long to forget about your husband.”
“You’re dead,” Maria spat, pushing Elena behind her. “You left us to starve. You let them threaten your own daughter!”
“I survived,” Marco barked, raising the gun. “And now you’re going to help me survive this. Grab the kid. We’re leaving.”
Elena peeked out from behind her mother’s legs, looking at the man in the faded photograph she used to talk to. But there was no warmth in his face. He didn't look like a papa. He looked like a monster.
“No,” Elena said loudly, stepping out. “You’re not my papa. My papa wouldn't make mommy cry.”
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Marco stepped forward, raising his hand to strike the child. “Shut your mouth, you little—”
Before his hand could fall, the front door of the cabin exploded inward in a shower of splintered wood and reinforced steel.
