Page 130 of Knot Made to Break: Part One

Two precise shots. Twin thuds as bodies hit concrete.

But more were coming. Always more.

I ducked back down. “I need backup on the west side!” I hissed through the earpiece as I reloaded.

My hands didn’t shake, but phantom pain lanced through old scars hidden beneath my shirt. Memories of past firefightsthreatened to surface, but I shoved them down. No time for that shit now.

The metallic tang of blood coated my tongue, and I realized I’d bitten down hard enough to make myself bleed. I spat, but the taste of copper lingered.

I blew out a breath. “Come on, you Valentino fucks,” I growled, more to steady myself than anything.

Another volley of shots pinged off the wood, showering me with more splinters. I flinched as one sliced across my cheek, a thin line of warmth trickling down.

My thoughts flashed to Kitania, her ice-blue eyes wide with fear. I never wanted to see that look on her face again. The need to protect her, to get back to her, burned in my chest. It was a foreign feeling, this raw desperation. For most of my life, I’d been guarded, keeping everyone but family at arm’s length.

But her... That woman had slipped past my defenses without even trying.

I returned fire, the loud bangs echoing through the night. Another body dropped.

“Giovanni!” Marco’s voice cracked through my earpiece. “I’m coming your way. Hold on!”

I grunted in acknowledgment, not wasting breath on words. My finger squeezed again and again. The gun’s recoil was a familiar comfort against my palm.

More deafening pops rang out, closer now. I could hear the Valentinos shouting to each other, their voices edged with panic as our guys began fighting back, picking them off one by one.

Good. Let ‘em feel what it’s like to be hunted.

My mind raced, calculating angles and trajectories. I needed to move, to get a better vantage point. But leaving cover meant exposing myself.

“Fuck it,” I muttered, tensing my muscles to spring.

Just then, a figure darted into view. I nearly squeezed the trigger before recognizing Marco’s silhouette.

“About damn time!” I growled, covering him as he joined me behind my shitty wooden fortress.

He slid through the dirt, pulling off a slide a professional baseball player would be proud of.

“You really know how to throw a party, G.” Marco grinned, his eyes bright with energy and adrenaline.

I rolled mine, but smirked in response. “Yeah, well, I like to keep things interesting.”

Another shot ricocheted nearby, pinging off of something metal with a loud clang. We both ducked, then exchanged a nod, a silent promise to protect each other and finish this fight, once and for all.

“I got your back, brother,” Marco panted, his eyes turning hard as glass.

Side by side, we fired into the darkness, our movements practiced, fluid. A well-oiled machine, honed by years of training and bloodshed.

“We can’t hold them off forever!” he shouted, ducking to avoid a near hit.

He was right. Our ammo wouldn’t last much longer.

Through the haze of smoke and gunfire, I spotted a familiar figure heading toward us radiating such hate that there was no doubt who he was, even under the guise of night.

Rocco.

DIMITRI

I was already moving, flying down the metal grate staircase andaiming for the door that I’d seen Giovanni walk out only minutes before. I ripped my gun from its holster, taking aim and blasting off a round toward the men encroaching on the warehouse.

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