Page 79 of The Don's Eternal Vows

The rumble of engines fills the air as we pull away, headlights cutting through the darkness. I sit in the lead car, my mind laser-focused on the task ahead. The weight of my gun presses against my side. Tonight, Paolo Greco learns the true meaning of fear.

The dilapidated warehouse looms before us, a hulking shadow against the night sky. I raise my hand out through the open window, signaling the convoy to a halt. The engines cut out, leaving an eerie silence in their wake.

"Positions," I mutter into my earpiece, my voice barely above a whisper.

My men fan out with practiced precision, each movement is calculated and silent. I scan the perimeter, my eyes narrowing as I spot potential entry points. The warehouse's rusted metal gleams dully in the moonlight.

I feel a familiar tightness in my chest, a mix of anticipation and dread. This is it—the moment we've been planning for weeks.

"Boss," comes a calm voice to my right. "We're in position."

I nod, unholstering my weapon. The cool grip grounds me, focusing my thoughts. "On my mark," I breathe.

Seconds tick by, each one an eternity. Then, with a sharp nod, I give the signal.

We breach the entrance, the door giving way with a resounding crash. The stale air inside hits me like a wall, thick with dust and the acrid smell of abandonment.

"Move, move!" I bark, my voice carrying over the sudden chaos.

My men pour in behind me, weapons drawn. The beam of my flashlight cuts through the darkness, revealing stacks of crates and forgotten machinery—the perfect cover for an ambush.

As I lead the charge deeper into the warehouse, a single thought echoes in my mind: Where are you hiding, Greco?

As we round a corner, the air shifts. A figure emerges from the shadows, and my blood runs cold. Paolo Greco stands before us, a smug grin plastered across his face. The sight of him ignites a fury in my chest.

"Well, well, Gianni," he drawls, his voice dripping with mock surprise. "Fancy meeting you here. Tell me, how's your little obsession going? Still, seeing your dead wife everywhere?

My jaw clenches, teeth grinding. The mention of her name on his lips makes my skin crawl.

"You know," Greco continues, circling me like a shark, surrounded by his men. "I always wondered if you were playing with a full deck. But this? This is downright insane."

I feel my men tense behind me, waiting for my command. But this is personal. My eyes never leave Greco as I step forward, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

"Insanity, Greco? Is that what you call it when a man protects what's his?" The words come out in a low growl. "No, the real madness would be letting a snake like you slither free."

“The real madness is you speaking to your wife, who now rests six feet under the ground.”

My heart pounds in my ears, but I keep my face impassive. I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing how deeply his taunts cut.

"You're out of your depth," I continue, my voice barely audible now. "You always have been. And now, you're going to learn what happens when you play with fire."

The air crackles with tension, thick enough to choke on.

And then, I signal my men.

The warehouse explodes into chaos. Some more of Greco's men spring from the shadows, and the air fills with the deafening crack of gunfire. I dive behind a stack of crates, the acrid smell of gunpowder burning my nostrils.

"Take cover!" I bellow to my men, my voice barely audible over the cacophony.

Bullets whiz past, splintering wood and ricocheting off metal. The disorienting echoes make it impossible to pinpoint shooters. My heart hammers, but my mind remains razor-sharp.

I spot an opening and dart forward, my movements fluid and precise. A hulking brute appears in my peripheral vision, but I'm already moving. I sidestep his clumsy lunge, driving my elbow into his solar plexus. As he doubles over, gasping, I relieve him of his weapon.

"Boss, your three o'clock!" Carlo shouts.

I spin, squeezing off two rounds. The approaching assailant crumples mid-stride.

"Good eye," I mutter, scanning for my next target.

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