The Vitale estate wasn't difficult to take down. He knew the house almost as well as his own. He had drunk wine in its dining room, argued business in its study, stood beside Enzo in halls now dressed for mourning. Friendship had once made the place familiar. Rage made it easy to invade.
The gate came down beneath the force of a truck. Metal screamed. Stone cracked. The first shots rang out before the broken gates had finished shuddering apart.
Vitale men scattered into position, but they had not been ready for war. Massimo's men were ready. They came in with the element of surprise cutting through the estate before the Vitales could gather themselves. Return fire spat from balconies and side doors, but the Genovese advance did not slow.
Marco stayed to Massimo's right, face hard, gun steady, every line of him pulled tight. On Massimo's left, his capo moved with brutal calm, barking low orders as men swept the grounds and pushed into the house.
