Page 42 of Bound to the Enforcer

"We're here," Alessio says, cutting the engine.

He steps out first, scanning the area as always. I follow, pulling my coat tighter around me against the biting wind. My boots crunch against the gravel, the noise far too loud in the stillness.

Inside, the space is cold and empty, the air thick with dust and faint traces of oil. The remnants of machinery from the building's past life still linger along the walls—old metal gears and forgotten pulleys. Matteo is waiting for us near a large wooden table in the center of the room, a few sheets of paper spread across its surface.

"About time," Matteo mutters, glancing up as we approach. "You took the scenic route?"

"Traffic," Alessio replies flatly.

Matteo snorts, his usual smirk faltering when he looks at me. I don't have to say anything—he knows the look in my eyes. He can feel it.

"Tell me you've got something," I speak sharper than I intended.

Matteo straightens, tapping one of the papers on the table. "We do. Domenico's making his move sooner than expected. He's arranging a meeting with the heads of three families—Caruso, Gustov, and Macron."

The names alone are enough to send a chill down my spine. "Those families have always backed my father," I say. "They wouldn't turn on my father, would they?"

"Yes. Yes they would. The name of the game is money and power."

"How much time do we have?" Alessio asks calmly but clipped.

Matteo shrugs, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Two days, maximum five. The meeting's happening at one of Domenico's warehouses. He's locked it down—guards, checkpoints, everything."

I look up sharply. "Then we hit him there."

Alessio's eyes flick to mine, but he doesn't say anything. Matteo, however, doesn't hold back.

"Are you insane? You want to walk straight into Domenico's stronghold while he's surrounded by allies?"

"It's the only way," I say. "If we let this meeting happen, we lose."

Matteo looks at Alessio like he expects him to argue, but Alessio stays quiet, watching me with that same unreadable expression he always wears. Finally, Matteo sighs, throwing up his hands.

"This is suicide."

"No," Alessio says finally. "It's necessary."

I turn to him, surprised by his agreement. For the first time, he doesn't look like he's doubting me or questioning mydecisions. There's something in his stare that feels almost like… respect.

"We'll need a plan," Alessio says, stepping closer to the table. "We can't go in blind. Matteo, get us the layouts for the warehouse and a list of everyone Domenico's bringing with him."

Matteo grumbles under his breath but nods, already pulling out his phone. "You're both out of your damn minds."

"Maybe," I say, "but Domenico made this personal. I won't let him win."

I straighten, feeling the fire inside me harden into something sharper. Something cold. My hatred for Domenico burns like an ember that refuses to die, a constant reminder of what he did to my sister—what he stole from me. My family will be avenged.

And when I'm done, Domenico will have nothing left.

A few hours later, we are done with our planning and prepping, and we are ready. The sound of Matteo typing on his phone fills the loft, his fingers moving in quick, frustrated taps as Alessio leans over the table. The large wooden surface is now scattered with maps, notes, and schematics—pieces of a plan forming out of chaos.

Matteo mutters another curse but finally stops pacing. "Fine. What's the plan for the distraction?"

I exhale, turning back to the blueprint. "We'll need explosives, enough to cripple his supply depot but not bring down the entire block. Matteo, can you handle that?"

Matteo's lips twitch into something close to a grin. "Explosives? That I can do."

"Good," I say firmly. "Alessio and I will handle the warehouse infiltration while Domenico's men are occupied. We'll get inside, crash the meeting, and expose him for what he's done."

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