The sun had already risen by the time Angel and Tony emerged from the underground parking lot.
Right before them, the first to be dragged out was Don Federico Luchese—
Bleeding, groaning, cursing and crying Angel’s name like a madman.
Behind him, his men, bloodied and defeated, followed in complete silence.
Then came Beth.
Snarling.
“This isn’t over! Santa De Leones! I have connections from above!” she hissed, even as her wrists were cuffed and her shoulder was shot.
“Don’t touch me!” she yelled, but no one listened.
They pulled her out of sight.
And behind her, several CIA agents who had surrendered without a fight.
Bernardo and his crew were already gone—likely en route to a brutal end, the first to meet their maker.
Mafia style.
Their fates were already sealed.
Outside the shattered remains of Hotel Valgrande’s restaurant, the grim aftermath of the previous night’s chaos was plainly visible.
Curious onlookers, and passersby hovered with phones raised.
Snapping pictures—until the pe
