Chapter 17 - THE BLOOD BATH
Four waiters suddenly dropped their serving trays and pulled hidden machine guns from beneath their aprons.
Before they could even raise their weapons, Victor flipped the heavy wooden table directly into the air.
The heavy oak completely shielded them from the initial burst of deafening gunfire that shattered the club's windows.
Chaos instantly erupted in the room as rival mob bosses scrambled frantically for the exits.
Victor reached down to his ankle and pulled out a small, snub-nosed revolver he had smuggled past the metal detectors.
He fired two rapid shots, dropping the closest fake waiter before the man could flank their position.
"Stay down!" Victor yelled over the roar of the automatic weapons tearing the club apart.
Lena stayed crouched behind the shattered wood, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm in her chest.
She watched as Vladimir’s bodyguards advanced on their position, firing relentlessly to keep Victor pinned.
They were vastly outnumbered, and Victor only had four bullets left in his tiny revolver.
Suddenly, the front doors of the club burst open, and Dmitri marched in carrying a heavy tactical shotgun.
Dmitri had ignored the club's sacred rules, bringing a dozen of Victor's most heavily armed men directly into the sanctuary.
The tide of the battle turned in seconds as Dmitri’s squad ruthlessly cleared the room of Petrov loyalists.
Vladimir realized his ambush had completely failed, and he desperately scrambled toward the kitchen exit.
"He is getting away!" Lena shouted, pointing at the old man fleeing through the swinging doors.
Victor didn't hesitate; he vaulted over the broken table and sprinted after the Russian boss.
Lena scrambled to her feet and ran after Victor, refusing to be left behind in the chaotic wreckage.
She pushed through the kitchen doors just in time to see Vladimir cornered against the industrial stoves.
The old man had pulled a hidden pistol from his coat, pointing it directly at Victor's chest.
"You took everything from me!" Vladimir screamed, tears of pure rage streaming down his scarred face.
Before Vladimir could pull the trigger, Victor fired his last bullet directly into the old man's shoulder.
Vladimir dropped his weapon and collapsed onto the tile floor, completely defeated.
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Victor walked over and kicked the gun away, his eyes cold and devoid of any mercy.
The Petrov empire was finally, permanently broken.
