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The night air carried a deceptive sweetness, the kind that made one forget for a moment what lay ahead. Stars punctured the navy canvas above us like distant witnesses to our sins, twinkling indifferently as we crouched behind abandoned farm equipment at the edge of the field. Crickets chirped their summer symphony, nature’s final performance before chaos erupted.
I pulled my light jacket tighter despite the warm breeze. Summer nights in the countryside should be peaceful—families gathered around backyard fire pits, teenagers sneaking kisses under moonlight. Instead, we waited in shadows, weapons heavy in our hands, breath held in anticipation.
The first shot cracked the night’s tranquility like lightning splitting a tree. Then another. And another, until the air vibrated with an orchestra of gunfire, the rapid staccato of automatic weapons mixing with the deeper bass of shotgun blasts.
I palmed my own gun.
The promise to stay hidden and out of danger danced through my mind. It was the price I paid to be here. Once this was over, once we survived the nightmare that tore our organization into two warring pieces, I was going to invest heavily in tactical training. For myself and for my men.
Waiting was the worst.
The distant convoy lights appeared like fireflies on the horizon, growing brighter as they approached our position. Three trucks and two escort vehicles. Right on schedule. A signal flashed from across the field where Michele’s team waited.
The first explosion hit the lead vehicle, flipping it onto its side in a spectacular burst of orange flame that illuminated the night like a demonic sunrise. Shouts erupted as men poured from the remaining vehicles, weapons drawn.
I ducked lower as bullets whistled overhead, splintering the ancient tractor I hid behind. The smell of cordite filled the air, mingling with gasoline and burning rubber. Donnie’steam opened fire from the west, catching Bonetti’s men in a devastating crossfire.
“We should have kept the merchandise intact,” Franky muttered, barely loud enough for me to hear over the cacophony of battle.
“I don’t want to trade his drugs. They’re likely tainted,” I hissed.
No, if the Moretti Famiglia regained its former glory, we were only selling the best. Even then, my conscience couldn’t wrap around peddling highs and their potential overdoses.
But that was a problem for a victorious donna. I couldn’t think about the future. There was only right now. I tucked the problem away to worry about tomorrow—or the days after.
A second explosion rocked the field as one of the transport vehicles blasted into the heavens.
Just one more to go.
Make it quick, I prayed.
The final transport erupted like a volcano, debris raining down across the field as flames licked toward the night sky. The concussive blast sent me crouching against the tractor, my ears ringing with a high-pitched whine that drowned out everything else for several long seconds.
When my hearing returned, I noticed something strange.
Silence. The gunfire had ceased.
Bodies lay scattered across the field, dark shapes against darker earth. Some of Bonetti’s men had fled into the surrounding woods, but most wouldn’t be getting up again. The acrid scent of burning rubber and fuel hung heavy in the air, making my eyes water as I cautiously rose from my position.
“Clear!” Michele’s voice called from somewhere to my left.
“Clear here!” came Donnie’s response from the far side of the ambush site.
I stepped out from behind my cover, my legs unsteady beneath me.
Vincenzo jogged over, a manic smile spread across his lips. “Donna Isabella! The day is yours!”
I fought the urge to turn and retch. “How many men did we lose?”
The question tasted like poison on my tongue.
“Only three, signora,” the lad beamed.
Only three….
Three more souls to star in my nightmares. I pressed a fist into my stomach and stepped forward to survey the damage.
