Page 138 of King of Obsession

These bastards had no idea who they were messing with. I’d faced down worse than them in my life, and I sure as hell wouldn’t let them take what was mine.

I aimed my gun at Franco, my voice cold as ice. ‘Last chance, assholes. Turn around and crawl back to whatever hole you came from, or I’ll start shooting.’

A few of their capos on two- and four-wheelers surged forward, thinking they were likely to breach our defenses.

But my snares caught them, their dirt bikes tangling in the concealed wires I’d rigged up.

Shouts of anger and pain rose into the air as they plunged into the booby traps I’d laid out.

They fell and flailed in shallow pits lined with sharpened stakes, hidden beneath a thin brush layer.

The sound of bodies hitting the ground, followed by agonized screams, told me my snares had found their marks.

I stepped out into the open, my gun raised as I blasted at the vehicle. Explosions rang out like thunder in the stillness of the night. Franco cursed as he dove for cover.

‘I’ve got him!’ one of his sons shouted.

Moments later, the air was alive with the crack of gunfire as they returned fire.

The rigged-up truck charged toward me; its hunting spotlight was so bright that it burnt my cornea.

Franco and his sons took wild shots in my direction, shouting at how they’d had enough of my shit.

I fired back to protect Cleo, who was fighting at my side.

With no warning, a deafening roar came as the Contis truck revved even higher, its tires spinning on the gravel as it surged forward.

I stared in horror as it careened towards the giant pine tree in the front yard, Franco blinded by rage.

The impact was tremendous, the sound of shattering glass and twisting metal filling the air as the vehicle slammed into the tree and burst into flames.

But even as the thought crossed my mind, a shout of outrage tore the atmosphere.

Franco emerged from the flaming juggernaut, his face twisted with hatred as he leveled his gun at me.

The muzzle flashes lit up the dark alley as I charged forward, my pistol spitting lead.

Rocco, Bruno, and Fabio also appeared, shaken from the crash but still advancing.

I had a second to react before my rounds found their marks.

Bruno’s revolver jerked out of his hand, clattering across the cobblestones.

Fabio’s Beretta vanished from his grip in a shower of sparks.

The shock on their faces was priceless.

‘Fuck! Impossible!’ Fabio cried, flailing around to where his piece had landed in the shadows.

I kept my aim steady on them, a cold fury in my eyes. ‘Not impossible. I’m just that damned good.’

Their bravado melted away, replaced by the wide-eyed look of cornered rats.

They were outmatched.

With deliberate slowness, I lowered my gun and slid it back into the leather holster under my jacket.

The brothers exchanged confused glances, but I wasn’t about to play by their wishes.

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