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“Right behind you.” I follow my brother, with Max trailing behind. “Are we going in circles?”
“It seems like it,” Maxsim mutters.
Eventually, we round a corner, and I spot a massive steel door standing ajar. “Either the Cartel is filled with sloppy soldiers, or someone expects us.”
“Maybe it’s both Franco responds as we slip through one at a time.
The moment we enter the hallway, I feel the weight of responsibility settle on my shoulders like a physical force. This isn’t just about rescuing Ari and Gianna – it’s also about proving that messing with the Bianchis has only one result.
We all move cautiously through the dimly lit hallway, careful not to make a sound. My heartbeat quickens as we approach the large warehouse floor.
Taking a deep breath, I move along the wall and see Cartel soldiers playing cards at a small table at the far end.
“Not real worried about impressing the boss,” Maxsim mutters.
A door to our left bursts open, and all the soldiers look up when a man in a suit enters. “The prisoners escaped. Get off your asses.”
“That means Ari remembered every lesson Nonna gave her,” I mutter quietly.
“I hope like hell that’s true,” Franco responds.
“Guess it’s time for a little shock and awe,” Maxsim says as he pulls a small frag out of his pocket.
“Where the hell did you get one so small.”
“I have them custom-made.” His mouth lifts into an evil grin. “My suites are not the only thing that’s bespoke. These are powerful enough to take out a few enemies but not rattle our brains enough so that we become ineffective.” He pulls the pin and rolls it toward the center of the warehouse. “Fire in the hole, boys.”
“He couldn’t help himself,” Franco replies as we move back toward the wall.
“Find cover!” Maxsim instructs.
We dive behind a row of steel shelves for protection. Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I watch several bodies fly into the air. Once the deafening sound ends and crates ignite, filling the space with smoke, I shake my head, wondering how long the ringing in my ears will last.
Franco holds up his phone, and I see the picture one of the soldiers sent. “Rodrigo, TheSerpentVargas, is entering the loading dock looking like it’s his fucking birthday.
“Is our guest of honor on his way in?” Maxsim asks.
“Yes. Get your party hats. The confrontation is about to begin.”
I glance over my shoulder and notice a few low-level soldiers run in and pull the men away from the burning crates. “Women first, Rodrigo second.”
A door bursts open, and Rodrigo enters. His cold, calculating eyes catch mine across the empty space, igniting my fury further. “Or we kill the snake first.”
“It’s nice to see the Russians and Italians getting along so well,” he sneers. “Guess you can thank me later.”
“With a bullet,” Maxsim drawls, looking bored as he points his gun at Rodrigo’s chest. “You look like a sissy, so I gotta ask, how many plates are you wearing?” He lowers his weapon so it points toward the man’s thigh. “Femoral artery works. Slow and painful.”
“I say the word, and the women are dead.” He taps his earpiece and smiles. “You insulted me in front of everyone, Enzo. I can’t let that stand.”
“You can tap that piece of plastic in your ear all day, but the women are in the wind, and our soldiers have wiped out whoever you talked into this stunt.”
“Bullshit.” A sinister smirk dances across his lips while he tries to feign nonchalance.
He pulls his gun and I glance over at Franco. He nods, signaling that our soldiers have taken care of the trash. I release the bullet from my chamber at the same time Maxsim does. They collide in midair, sparks flying like fireworks caught in a deadly dance. Time slows, and I watch my brother shake his head and place a shot in Varga’s thigh and then his hand, making the gun clatter to the ground.
Blood quickly blooms on his leg as his eyes widen, and he stumbles backward, blood pooling rapidly beneath him.
“Why does he look surprised?” Franco asks as he looks around. “We’re men of our word.”
