Page 70 of The Don's Eternal Vows

My mind flashes to our past encounters with Greco's ruthless organization and the bitter rivalry that's costing us both dearly. Now, he's brought the fight to our doorstep, determined to finish what he started.

A blur of movement catches my eye. Gianni emerges from the shadows, his face a mask of fierce determination. He moves with lethal grace, ducking and weaving through the chaos. I can't help but admire his tactical brilliance as he outmaneuvers Greco's men.

"Come on, amore," I whisper, fingers pressed against the glass. "Show them what you're made of."

Gianni's voice crackles over the radio, calm despite the mayhem. "Charlie team, flank left. Delta, provide covering fire."

I watch in awe as our men respond instantly, their movements perfectly synchronized. Gianni's always been three steps ahead, and tonight is no exception. He's turning the tide, slowly but surely.

A staccato burst of gunfire erupts nearby, and I cringe. Gianni drops and rolls, coming up firing. Two of Greco's men fall, and my heart races. "That's my man," I murmur, a mix of pride and fear coursing through me.

Gianni disappears from view again.

"Stay alive," I plead silently, my eyes scanning the battlefield for any sign of him.

A few minutes later, I catch glimpses of Gianni darting between covers, his movements fluid and purposeful. He gestures sharply, directing his men with precision. "Marco, Giuseppe, on me!" he barks, voice carrying over the cacophony of gunfire.

I hold my breath as Gianni leads a charge, three of his most trusted men flanking him. They move as one unit, covering each other with practiced ease. A grenade arcs through the air, and my heart stops.

"Get down!" Gianni roars, tackling Marco to the ground just as the explosion rocks the compound.

When the smoke clears, I see Gianni helping Marco to his feet and checking him for injuries. His loyalty shines through even in the midst of chaos.

Marco indicates he’s alright.

As the battle rages on, I can see the toll it's taking. Gianni's shirt is torn, blood seeping through a gash on his arm. His men show signs of fatigue, movements becoming slower, more desperate.

Yet Gianni's resolve never wavers. "Hold the line!" he shouts, rallying his troops. "We protect our own!"

I press my hand against the glass, wishing I could reach out and touch him to lend him my strength.

"Come back to me," I whisper, watching as Gianni charges once more into the fray, his men at his back, united against the storm that threatens to tear us apart.

The war lasts hours, and after some time, I sit with my back against the wall, unable to witness any more blood being spilled. The gunfire fades, replaced by an eerie silence that settles over the compound like a suffocating blanket. I emerge from the safe room, my legs shaky and heart pounding. The acrid smell of smoke and gunpowder assaults my senses as I step outside.

"Gianni?" I call out, my voice cracking.

He appears from behind a scorched shelf, his face smeared with soot and blood. "I'm here, Genoveva."

I rush to him, my fingers tracing the cut on his cheek. "You're hurt."

"It's nothing," he says, but I see the pain in his eyes. Not physical pain, but something deeper.

We survey the destruction together. Broken glass crunches under our feet. Bullet holes riddle the walls. Bodies of Greco's men lie scattered, a grim testament to the violence.

"They got away," Gianni growls, his fists clenching. "Greco and his top lieutenants."

I swallow hard. "What does this mean for us?"

He turns to me, his gaze fierce. "It means we're not safe. Not yet."

A groan catches our attention. Marco limps towards us, clutching his side. "Boss, we've got wounded. And... casualties."

Gianni's jaw tightens. "How many?"

"Eight dead. Fifteen injured."

I watch as Gianni absorbs this, seeing the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. He nods curtly. "Get the injured to the infirmary. We'll honor our fallen brothers properly."

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