Page 159 of Hate Me

For a man in my position of power and influence, it was par for the course.

Up until lately, however, I’d always been very cautious.

I didn’t have an heir, nor had I named a successor—Matteo wasn’t quite ready to take on that responsibility. So if I fell, the Syndicate would flounder and be ripe for the picking.

I’d had to make exceptions to my usual safe approach lately, however.

Elijah Bane wasn’t just any enemy to me, any target that needed eliminating.

It was far beyond business.

It was very much personal.

Not only had his actions six years ago taken my close friend from me, it had also upturned my carefully laid plans to such a point that I hadn’t been able to set them back on track.

His decision to eliminate the Kings that night had altered things forevermore and very much not to my liking.

He’d come at me that night too through his actions against them.

And since then, Elijah had only grown more dangerous and unhinged.

His death would be a mercy upon this world. Upon us all.

When I didn’t answer, Matteo persisted, “I told you, when we raid the place and drag that motherfucker out, I’d bring him straight to you. Nobody is gonna end his life but you. Our men are well aware of the rules of engagement.”

“He’s slippery. More than you realize.”

“Dante—”

“Go,” I ground out. “Commence the operation. Immediately, Matteo.”

He tensed at my non-negotiable tone, knowing well what would come beyond it should he push this any further after being given a direct command. “Yes, Boss,” he said, before rushing off to take position around at the north end of the warehouse.

I eased my locket from beneath my tactical vest, rubbing my fingers over it, something I did when I was anxious or on edge. It was either that or doing the same with a golden antique coin that I kept in the pocket of my wool coat. Alas, that wouldn’t have been conducive to tonight’s activities. I was wearing my worn leather jacket instead, a vest beneath, my pants even the same hard leather material, my soldiers clad in the same, albeit with balaclavas shielding their identities from view.

It wasn’t long before Matteo’s voice sounded in my earpiece.

“Moving in now, Boss.”

“Copy that.”

In the next few moments, the sounds of clanging metal, rushed footsteps, and several resounding thuds followed.

And then music to my ears.

Gunfire. Screams.

The enemy being ripped apart.

Time went by where I waited for word to come on Elijah’s capture.

On and on it went.

I’d determined fifteen minutes maximum for my people to take the facility and another ten for them to secure it. Upon news of an attack, Elijah’s modus operandi was to hide. There was a reinforced steel office space within the warehouse where he was slated to retreat to and do just that. That would require another three minutes for my men to breach.

That time came and went.

Minutes ticked on by and still no word came.

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