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there somewhere, but we don’t know where in the house."
"Right," Angelo chimes in, pointing to a narrow path on the map.
"This route is less guarded but also tight and risky. We'll need to move fast and keep a low profile."
"Exactly," I confirm, feeling the weight of responsibility on my shoulders.
"But if we do this right, we can take him out before he even knows we were there."
"Let's do this," Tony says, his eyes filled with determination.
"Good luck, everyone," I add, clapping Angelo on the shoulder. "Stay sharp and stay alive."
The operation commences at the break of dawn.
The sleek black SUVs pull up to the curb, their windows tinted to hide the dangerously skilled men within.
I, Felix Carlisi, step out of the lead vehicle, my heart pounding with adrenalin.
My tailored suit hugs my muscular frame, concealing my weapons: a silenced pistol strapped to my thigh and a knife tucked in the small of my back.
The rest of my team emerges from the vehicles, all dressed in similar attire.
Their eyes scan the area, ready for any signs of trouble.
As we approach Hunter's current residence, every second becomes life or death.
Each step we take brings us closer to Rosalie, the woman I've come to love and will do anything to protect.
The mother of my child. The sky above is overcast, casting a gloomy haze over the landscape.
The threat of rain hangs heavily in the air, as if the weather itself knows the impending violence we're about to unleash.
"Remember, we're here for Rosalie," I remind my team, my mind focused on her safety and the fight ahead.
We move in formation, our steps synchronized, each man relying on the others' skills and training to see us through this mission.
"Boss, perimeter looks clear," says Angelo, my right-hand man, his dark eyes never leaving the building as he relays the information.
"Good," I reply, my voice firm. "Let's not waste any more time."
We continue toward the opulent residence, our boots crunching softly on the gravel pathway.
The grounds around the building are immaculately landscaped, starkly contrasting the twisted dealings within its walls.
"Positions," I order, and my men spread out, taking cover behind various statues and foliage.
We wait, poised for action, the silence broken only by the distant rumble of thunder.
Good. Thunder masks gunshots. They'll never see us coming. I
grip my pistol, feeling the weight of it in my hand, knowing that soon it will be the instrument of vengeance for the woman I love.
"Let's do this," I murmur, and the storm begins to brew as we move in to rescue Rosalie.
The Drucci mafioso guarding the house comes into view, scattered around the perimeter like deadly shadows.
Their faces are as cold and hard as stone, their bodies adorned with tattoos that signify their loyalty to the cruel organization.
