Page 41 of Mafia Heir's Broken Vows

I move among them, inspecting the crates and boxes, listening in on their whispered conversations and making sure I don't have anyone who isn't loyal to us. Each man straightens as I pass, their fear is real. They all expect me to be just like my father—and he has always killed first asked later.

Enzo approaches, "Boss, Marco's compound is a fortress. Our drones have been over there a few times now. Multiple entry points, but all are heavily guarded. Snipers on the roof, patrols along the perimeter. He's dug in deep." He's expecting me to attack.

I nod, absorbing every word. "We create a distraction at the south gate—heavy fire. Fucking blow something up if we need to. Make him believe we're coming in full force. Then we breach the north wall. Small team. Swift and quiet. I'll go in myself."

Enzo hesitates. "Boss?—"

I cut him off. "No arguments. This is my fight. That is my son in there."

He nods, resigned. "We will have your back."

I check my handgun, then I holster it and tighten the vest around my chest. Every second that ticks by is another moment Marco is preparing. Another moment Serafina and Leo are in danger. He's not sent another message—I pray to God they're still alive. If God even listens to men like me, is another story.

"We're ready.Just waiting on your word." Enzo says to me. I am standing in my warehouse facing a fleet of vehicles armed to the hilt. Men are ready to go to war for me—for'family'and'honor'. I wonder why they are so loyal. I have been shaken in my loyalty, and I doubt I can change the way I feel now. Do they follow because of fear, or because they really believe in the mafia?

I turn slowly, scanning the small army we have pulled together. "Let's go."

The armored vehicles roar to life, engines growling in the dark. I get into my SUV with Enzo as my passenger; he's been at my side for years. He knows the past—and why I am the way I am. He has been a buffer between my father and me, or we'd probably have killed one another already. I trust him with my life—and theirs. He is the closest thing I have to a friend.

"My father will not forgive me this time," I say to him as we drive out of the giant warehouse. "I'm done, and he is going to make things even harder." Enzo looks at me.

"He'll get over it."

"Not this time," I say. "I think I have pushed too far. He's old-school and just can't accept that times are changing. We don't live in a world where arranged marriage, and family alliances mean what they did before. The world is changing—the mafia is changing. These old men that won't change with it are going to be left behind."

"You know he just wants you to take over and be like him."

"I will never fucking be like him—Jesus—one is enough. I think I'm done with all of it, having a kid makes you see stuff differently." I admit and he laughs at me.

"I have three daughters, Alessandro," he reminds me, "You don't think that I understand? But what choice has a guy like me got? My family is not powerful. I worked my way in and up. If I go against the boss, I will just end up in a shallow grave somewhere." He's right. We have all been trapped in this vicious cycle.

"He's losing his mind," I pause to check the cars behind us are still following, "I'm not being funny; there have been things. Like this stuff with Isabella. I think he's going down the same road as his father." My grandfather had dementia; he went completely doo-lally but refused to let Matteo take over until he was dead.

"Could be," he shrugs, "I know he has had a lot of secret meetings lately, at night when everyone has gone. Shady characters that we shouldn't be mixing our business with." I had heard a rumor from one of the women he used to sleep with.

"Once I have them back, I am going to tell him I'm out. If you want out—I'll take you with me." I give him a chance to walk away—a luxury not many have in this business.

"I'll think about it." He chuckles, he thinks I'm crazy now.

ALESSANDRO

Our SUV idles in the dense cover of the trees, headlights off. Beyond the tree line, Marco's compound looms like a fortress—a grotesque monument to his ego. Floodlights slice through the rain, illuminating patrols weaving between armored vehicles and guardhouses. Barbed wire coils along the perimeter fence, daring anyone to try to get in. Nothing screams ‘I have a small penis’ like a sniper on the roof.

Marco hides behind security, guns, and other men—because deep down, he's afraid.

I crouch low beside Enzo, his breath forming clouds of condensation in the frigid air. Maps and schematics had prepared us mentally for this, but nothing compares to seeing it up close.

"Is the distraction in place?" I ask, keeping my voice low.

Enzo nods, his eyes sharp. "They're set. Waiting on your signal."

I scan the compound, noting every guard, every blind spot, and all the small details a map can't show. The guard on the balcony looks skittish like he's barely holding it together. He'll be easy to get past—he'll shit himself and run. That's my way in.

"Light it up."

Moments later, the southern gate erupts in chaos. Explosions rip through the silence, flames licking at the dark sky. Gunfire cracks like fireworks, and Marco's men scramble to respond, shouting into radios as they rush toward the southern perimeter.

Perfect.

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