Page 33 of Cat and Mouse

"Don't worry so much," my father says, shaking his head. "You're too paranoid. I'll handle it. Just take care of your business."

"You'll go alone?" I ask, my voice tinged with skepticism.

"No," he replies. "I'll take a few men with me. You're always so cautious. Relax. I'll leave you to your cat-and-mouse game, and we can discuss more business in the morning."

"Fine," I say, knowing it's pointless to argue. "Just be careful."

"Of course," he says, patting me on the shoulder before turning to leave. "I'll see you later."

Two hours later, I receive the call that my father is dead.

"What did you just say to me?" I ask again.

"He's dead Leo. He was ambushed and shot. They didn't even get a chance to call a doctor," Matteo says solemnly.

I swallow the bile climbing up my throat. "Where is he?"

"Lee Funeral Home. I think his body just arrived. Are you going to see him?"

I shake my head before realizing that he can't see me. I slam the desk once. "Who?"

"Leonardo?"

"What bastard did this?"

"It was Jose Herrera."

"The Mexicans?" I ask.

"Yes, boss."

"Mobilize the men. They won't see their beds tonight."

Matteo's response is quick. "On it. What's the plan?"

"Kill them all," I snap. "I want every single one of those cartel bastards dead. We're taking back what's ours and making sure they never forget who they fucked with."

"Understood," Matteo says.

I hang up, my mind already racing through the details. The Mexicans have crossed a line. They've taken someone from me, and they're going to pay. I storm out of my office, my men already assembling.

"Get your gear. We're hitting the cartel's hideout. Leave no survivors."

The night air is cold, but it feels like fire in my veins. We drive to the cartel's location, my anger fueling every step. The compound comes into view, a fortress of despair. I nod to my men, signaling them to move in.

The assault is swift and brutal. Gunfire erupts, and the air fills with the sounds of violence. I'm in the thick of it, moving with purpose, dispatching anyone who stands in my way. I'm a whirlwind of rage, taking out the cartel members one by one.

After hours of carnage, I don't feel any better, and the weight of my father's death sinks in. I clench my jaw, fighting back the surge of grief and fury. I order his body to be taken back to our headquarters.

As dawn breaks, the compound is in ruins, and my father's body is returned. I oversee the cleanup, making sure every detail is handled. I'm cold, detached, but underneath it all, I'm seething.

Later, in my office, I sit at the desk, staring at the piles of paperwork. The weight of my father's death is still heavy on my shoulders, but I can't afford to mourn. Not yet. I need to consolidate power, secure our position.

Matteo bursts in, looking grim. "We've got news. Marco Rossiani was working with the Mexicans. He's planning something big against us."

"Rossiani," I snarl. "Of course he was. The bastard's always been a snake."

"We need to act fast," Matteo continues. "He's got allies, and he's making moves."

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