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“Well?” Dima asks, passing the binoculars to me.
“It’s not a trap,” I say confidently. “The letter’s legit.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Look at the security around the place.” I point out each of the squadrons we can see. “Thirty men in the front and only twenty out in the back. If they’d been anticipating an attack, there would be three times as many on duty.”
Thanks to the thick forest just outside the Bellasio estate’s boundaries, we’re able to hide out in here and scope out the place without fear of being seen. Of course, we sent a scout in half an hour ahead of us to make sure the forest was clear first. Now that we’ve established a base, it’s easy to anticipate how the attack will pan out.
“Boss,” Petro says, approaching us from behind one of our armored trucks, “a vehicle just left the property.”
I look back at the high rust-red walls of the property, searching for any signs about what might be happening. “Who was in it?”
“Gregor Bellasio.”
Ah. Not Celine, but Benedict’s younger sibling. “Didn’t know that little shit was in the country.”
“Neither did I,” Dima admits. “But I’ve heard he’s working closely with Benedict now.”
“Figures the only one Benedict can trust is his brother,” I grumble, turning my binoculars toward the windows on the third story of the ugly building. “Put two of our guys on Gregor.”
“Is two enough?” Dima asks. “He’s probably traveling with more men than that.”
“The fact that he left the property at all suggests that they’re not expecting any trouble,” I reason. “I just want to keep a tab on him. We’re not about to engage him openly.”
Dima nods, then glances at his phone again. He frowns when his notifications are empty. “Where is Mila? It’s not like her to be late. She can’t have left more than a few minutes after we did.”
“I told her to take a position at the other side of the property. She’ll let us know if there are any developments. So far, she’s only confirmed what we already know: they’re not expecting this. We—”
Before I can finish, my phone vibrates in my side pocket. “Speak of the devil. There she is.” I glance at the screen and read her text. “She’s noticing movement on the third floor. About five guards patrolling the level. She thinks Celine is being held in a room in the south quadrant.”
Dima lights up. “Then what are we waiting for?”
I jump out of the armored Hummer and turn toward my men. “On my signal, we drive through those gates and take the whole place by storm. Dima, you’re with me. Petro and Goga, I’ll need you to flank us when we’re inside. We have to get up to the third floor. And as for prisoners…we don’t need any. If a Bellasio fucker comes at you, kill him where he stands.”
Adrenaline and bloodlust churn in the men’s eyes. There’s nothing like the furor of battle to rally the soldiers together. I can feel the excitement build as I get into the vehicle and raise my fist in the air out of the window.
When I drop it, a dozen engines roar to life.
The Bellasio alarm blares just before we plow through the gates and open fire on every man who comes running at us. The fleet of vehicles takes hits, dents, and scratches as a hail of bullets tries to cut us down, but it’s pitifully easy to crash through their barriers and bulldoze the poor bastards who chose the wrong brotherhood. In the blink of an eye, two dozen Bellasio goons are dead.
The house’s façade is made out of large glass windows flanking an ugly iron door. Dima takes one look at me and smirks. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
I nod. “Smash it.”
Dima whistles and then steps on the gas. We shoot forward like a bat out of hell, and when we come up on the windows, we don’t stop.
The crash of shattering glass is deafening, an auditory “fuck you” to the bastards who believed they could attack me in my own home and get away with it. It sounds like the sky breaking wide open.
The Hummer comes to a stop with tires smoking in the welcome hall. Shattered glass is strewn everywhere when Dima and I jump down out of the vehicle. It crunches under our boots as we make our way over to the gold elevator in the far corner.
Dima, Petro, Goga, and I climb in and ride up three floors. “Get ready,” I tell my men as we near our destination.
Predictably, Bellasio men are waiting for us the moment the doors whoosh open. We stick to the sides of the elevator and take out several of the men before forcing the firefight out of the enclosed space.
I can smell shock and fear on the Bellasio minions as I force my way through the corridor toward the unmarked doors lining the adjoining hall.
My fiancée is bound to be behind one of them. While my men cover me, I kick down each door, searching for her. I hear another round of gunshots go off.
