Page 69 of The Mafia King's Lost Son
“I can’t quite…it’s on the edge of my memory. Something with a V? Or a B?”
“Focus. This could be important.”
I close my eyes and dive back into the memory, past the fear to that cold voice giving orders, but that’s as far I can get. I try harder and a pang of headache hits me.
“Ah,” I groan, holding my head.
Dante is on my side immediately. “That’s okay, that’s enough. You’ve done well, don’t stress anymore.”
As I lean into him, embracing the comfort his body brings, I can’t help the fear and realization that every day I stay here, every memory I recover, every piece of the puzzle we find—it’s all pushing us closer to violence that might consume everything.
We’re running out of time. The families are circling. Former allies are becoming enemies.
And Dante and Luca are in more danger, all because of me!
18
DANTE
The first shot shatters the pre-dawn silence at exactly 5:47 a.m.
I’m already awake, going through security reports in my office when the alarm system screams to life. Six red dots appear on my monitor, moving fast across the perimeter.
I quickly grab my gun from the desk drawer and hit the panic button that locks down the residential wing. Scarlett and Luca are still sleeping two floors up, and they need to stay there behind reinforced steel doors until this is over.
My phone rings. Marco.
“Hostiles armed with automatic weapons. They breached the east wall.”
“Where’s the household?”
“Locked down. Rosa’s with the boy and his mother.”
Good. “Defensive positions. Lethal force authorized.”
I’m moving before I finish speaking, taking the stairs down to ground level where my security team is already mobilizing.Viktor meets me in the hallway, already armed and wearing ammunition gear.
“They’re professionals,” he says. “Maybe even more than military training. This isn’t the families sending thugs.”
“I know.”
We reach the security room where monitors show my men engaging the attackers across the grounds. Muzzle flashes light up the darkness like fireflies. The sound of gunfire is constant now, overlapping bursts that echo through the estate.
One of my guards goes down. Then another.
These aren’t amateurs. They’re moving in coordinated teams, using cover effectively, and advancing with intelligence that speaks to serious training.
“East team, fall back to secondary positions,” I order into the radio. “Draw them into the kill zone.”
On the monitors, I watch my men retreat in controlled fashion, leading the attackers exactly where I want them. Into the open courtyard where they’ll have no cover and my snipers will have clear shots.
It works. Three attackers go down in rapid succession as my rooftop team opens fire.
But the other three keep coming, and they’re heading straight for the main house. For Scarlett and Luca.
“Viktor, take command here. I’m going out.”
“Boss, you should stay?—”
