Page 33 of Bound in Vengeance
I finish the last drop of water, slamming the bottle down onto the bench. My blood is boiling, screaming for violence. It would be so simple to slide a clip into my Beretta, drive over to Luca's estate, and put a bullet between his eyes the next time I see him. But a true Don doesn’t rule through desperate, sloppy assassinations. If I kill him without justification, I create a martyr and trigger a civil war with the elders.
No, I have to play this smartly. I have to find concrete evidence on Luca. I need to uncover something so damning, so treacherous, that it proves to the entire syndicate he is actively betraying the family. I have to show those four old men that Luca doesn't have the interests of the organization at heart, that he only cares about his own pathetic ambition.
Once I have that, I won't just kill him. I'll destroy him with their full blessing.
Valerio shifts his weight, his eyes darkening with a fresh layer of concern. "There's more. Luca is making a move this weekend. He’s confirmed to attend a get-together at Belvedere Manor."
I pause, my interest piqued. "Belvedere Manor? That's neutral territory. Who else is on the guest list?"
"The Kuznetsovs are attending in full force," Valerio says, his voice dropping. "The Carusos were invited too, but you knowMassimo, the bastard hardly ever leaves his fortress for parties like that, so they probably won't show. But here's the real kicker: the Gallos weren't invited at all. The hosts completely froze us out of the official list."
A cold smile touches my lips. "And yet, Luca found a way onto the floor."
"Exactly," Valerio nods, his jaw tight. "He bypassed the family entirely to secure his own invitation. If he's sneaking into a high-profile gathering packed with Russians and rival syndicates behind your back, he’s likely planning a secret meeting, a major deal, or a direct power move to solidify his position."
I grab my gym bag from the floor and fling the strap over my shoulder, heading straight for the heavy metal door of the gym.
“I’ll find a way in,” I say, my mind already calculating the security blind spots of Belvedere Manor. “But that’s not important right now. We have another package coming in tonight, don’t we?”
“Yes,” Valerio answers immediately, his boots clicking against the concrete right at my heels as we exit the bunker.
I give a sharp, final nod. “Good. I’ll be there to see to it myself.”
That night, the air down by the industrial canal is thick with the stench of low tide and rotting wood. Fog rolls in off the water, swallowing the headlights of the black SUVs we parked two blocks back.
I stand in the shadows of an abandoned warehouse, the cold metal of my Beretta a grounding weight in my palm. Valerio stands a few paces to my left, his eyes scanning the dark perimeter.
I’m damn glad I decided to see to the incoming package myself.
My instincts were dead on. The rusted fishing trawler carrying our shipment hasn't even cut its engines when the headlights of three unmarked vans pierce the fog from the eastern entrance of the docks. They don't belong to customs. They don't belong to the port authority.
As the side doors slide open, the dim amber warehouse lights catch the unmistakable profiles of Luca’s personal enforcers. The bastards came to finish the job.
They think I'm still back at the estate, nursing my wounds from the morning's loss, completely blind to the fact that they are trying to choke out my remaining supply lines.
They came to intercept this drug package too, ready to burn it down and leave me looking like an incompetent child in front of the elders.
Not tonight.
"Ambush," Valerio breathes, his weapon drawing in a smooth, practiced motion.
"No," I rasp, a feral smile cutting through the darkness as I step out of the shadows. "An execution."
Before Luca’s men can even establish a perimeter around the dock, we strike. A brutal, chaotic firefight breaks out, the deafening cracks of gunfire shattering the midnight silence. Muzzle flashes light up the fog like strobe lights, bullets tearing into the brickwork and shattering the windshields of their vans.
They weren't expecting a fight, and they certainly weren't expecting the Don to be on the front lines, trading lead in the dirt. One of his men lunges toward the first crate pulled from the boat, but I drop him with two clean shots to the chest before his boots can even unevenly hit the wood.
The air fills with the smell of cordite, screams of agony, and the sharp tang of fresh blood. If Luca wanted a war for the throne, he just officially got one.
"Left flank!" Valerio shouts over the deafening roar of a shotgun blast echoing off the metal containers.
I pivot, aiming my Beretta to squeeze off another round, when a shadow detaches itself from the darkness behind a stack of wooden pallets. I don't hear him over the chaos, I only catch thewicked, silver glint of a hunting knife slicing through the heavy fog.
Instinct makes me throw my weight backward, but I'm a fraction of a second too late. A sharp, searing heat explodes along my left forearm as the blade rips through the fabric of my jacket and deep into the flesh beneath.
Fuck.
I grunt, the white-hot pain flashing behind my eyes, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins overrides the shock.
