Chapter 2
1313words
Anticipation hangs like a heavy fog as I survey the night-draped scene. A dozen of my men are scattered in a tight arc thirty yards from the decrepit warehouse, their faces masked by shadows and the occasional glow of a cigarette tip.
Beside me, Leo Ricci, my righthand man, meticulously checks the magazine of his AR-15. There is a subtle tension in his shoulders, not uncommon in the adrenaline-fueled moments before a dangerous job, but for Leo, it's a little unusual.
'We move in one," I murmur, my voice a low rasp, barely audible over the distant hum of Chicago.
The plan is straightforward: ambush Romario's men inside the warehouse, reclaim the consignment they intercepted and leave no room for mercy.
Leo nods, his eyes meeting mine in a fleeting glance before returning to the cold steel in his hands. 'Ready when you are, Zade."
I continue the countdown in my head, then give the signal to move.
As we approach the warehouse, the quiet, rhythmic clatter of shoes on damp pavement echoes like a dirge, building an ominous suspense. My men, draped in shadows, move with the precision of a well-trained pack. The stolen consignment, a fortune in ammunition, is the lifeblood of the Outfit, and to intercept it is an affront not easily forgotten. And never forgiven.
'Ready for this, Leo?" I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper.
Leo cuts his gaze sharply to mine, surprise etched on his features. Not only is he my best friend, he's my best soldier. A job like this is something he does with one hand tied behind his back. I shouldn't have had to be here today, let alone question his readiness for this. But something about the tension that has been radiating from Leo all week made me decide to come.
He nods, his eyes now reflecting the cold glint of determination I know so well. 'Si. Always ready, Zade."
We move like a unit, silent and quick, but just as we get within ten feet of the wide warehouse door, it swings open to reveal four men, armed and ready to engage.
They're prepared. Someone tipped off Romario's men to expect us tonight.
Fuck. There's a mole among my men.
My men remained stoic, their weapons poised without hesitation.
"Need something, Don Vitalo?" The man at the forefront of his group widened his stance defensively, locking eyes with me in the darkness. Tall and angular, he exuded authority as the apparent leader of his crew.
A wave of shock swept over me. Not only were they tipped off about tonight's operation, but they also anticipated my presence among my men, indicating recent intelligence because I had decided to join them less than an hour ago.
Their recognition of me could mean two things. First, they intended for me not to leave alive. Second, they aimed to sow doubt among my ranks, hoping I would turn against my own men and eliminate them for betrayal.
Numerous scenarios raced through my mind, each calculation adjusting for our current predicament.
Maintaining a calm demeanor despite the surge of adrenaline, I kept my voice low and shoulders relaxed. "How about this, coglione? Romario's other two warehouses are rigged with explosives. If I'm not out in ten minutes, it'll be a fireworks show for him."
They exchanged surprised glances, their leader shifting slightly, undoubtedly debating whether to call my bluff. I could see the gears turning in his head.
It was a plausible threat. The Don of the Chicago Outfit wouldn't risk his life and resources unless he had contingencies in place—especially involving his adversary's assets.
He appeared to consider contacting his superior to verify my claim before Romario's empire suffered irreparable damage.
"Ten minutes, figli di putana," I growled. "Or make it easier on yourselves. Be good dogs and hand over the stolen goods. We'll walk away, and you might live."
Romario's soldier, displaying more courage than I anticipated, scoffed in response. "The only thing you'll be walking away with is your men's corpses if you don't turn around and get out of here, Don Vitalo. Right now."
I sigh dramatically at the affront as my men shift, already knowing there's no turning back from this, even if it costs them their lives. My threat may have slowed their momentum, but there's no stopping this wrecking ball. We've walked right into an ambush. And there is no doubt there are more men than these four hidden inside those walls.
As I predicted, dark figures appear in the warehouse windows around us and above us, dotting the darkness like sinister vultures perched in wait. I stop counting at six.
We need a bullet-proof shield right fucking now.
My brother Damon is parked just outside the link fence, and I imagine he's leaning against the van, smoking a joint and chatting smut to his latest ‘girl' while waiting for me to return, oblivious to the shit that's hitting the fan right about now.
Damon doubles as my driver and bodyguard, as well as being the most irritating jackass of a baby brother on the planet. He's just as skilled as any of these men, but I need him unhurt so he can do what he knows best should the need ever arise: To drive like a demon and shoot at impossible angles while doing it.
Where the fuck are you, Damon?
The little shit had better be bringing that armored van around right fucking now otherwise, we're all dead men because I'm about to throw the first punch here.
'You don't know me very well, stronzo," I say to Romario's gangly man, shaking my head. 'Backing down isn't really my style. I've been told I can be a little stubborn."
Beside me, Leo chuckles softly and mutters, 'That's like saying a rock is a little hard."
It's been a while since I've fought with my men, leaving Leo to do most of the strategy training. I sure hope like hell we still operate like a well-oiled machine, and these fuckers can do what Leo, Damon, and I can with a handful of bullets.
The gangly asshole shrugs. 'Lo so. Your reputation precedes you, but don't say I didn't warn—" He doesn't finish because a bullet flies out the pistol in my suddenly raised hand and hits him square between the eyes.
Everything stops. I suppose Romario's rebels were expecting a few more exchanges of threats and insults, followed by a signal from their ring leader before the bullets would finally start flying because there's a second or two of shock and confusion before they realize I've jumped the gun.
My men don't hesitate. As the gangly man drops, his gun clattering uselessly to the floor, a cacophony of muzzle flashes, echoing cracks, and the pungent scent of gunpowder fills the air.
Amidst the chaos, I hear the screech of brakes before the armored Klassen van flies in front of us, an effective shield between the warehouse, the bullets, and our men. Damon jumps out armed with an M16 rifle and a demented smile. I want to kiss and deck him all at once.
Again, the sudden appearance of a bullet proof wall takes the men by surprise, this time their shock would prove their undoing as my men take advantage of their hesitation and start dropping them like flies.
They fight back, their bullets raining down from the shattering warehouse windows and slamming into the van, but while their shots bounce off, ours hit right on target. In another minute, Romario's remaining rebels are retreating. Some fools actually turn around and attempt to flee, effectively catching bullets in their backs.
I spot one man to the left aiming at Leo's head, but as soon as I drop him, I feel a ribbon of fire graze my left shoulder, dangerously close to my brachial plexus.
Fuck!
