Page 49 of The Mafia's Second Shot

“I will,” I reply, my chest tight with fear. “Just don’t do anything reckless.”

He offers a faint smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll try.”

As he leaves, the reality of what’s coming settles over me. Rossi is here, and the final confrontation is inevitable. All we can do now is fight—and hope we make it through.

35

COOPER

The warehouse feels alive, buzzing with the kind of energy that comes before a storm. My men gather in the central space, their weapons loaded, their expressions grim but determined. Every faction is represented, and for the first time in weeks, we’re all united under a single purpose: to end Rossi once and for all.

I stand on an elevated platform, looking out at the faces of the men and women who have put their faith in me. Marco stands at my side, his presence steady, while Zoey lingers in the shadows, her gaze locked on me. I draw a deep breath, letting the weight of the moment settle in my chest.

“You all knowwhy we’re here,” I begin, my voice carrying over the murmur of the crowd. “Rossi’s pushed us to the edge. He’s taken our people, threatened our families, and forced us into hiding. But tonight, we take it all back.”

The murmurs grow quieter, every eye fixed on me.

“This isn’t just about survival anymore,” I continue, my tone sharpening. “This is about taking a stand. About sending a message that we don’t back down. That we protect what’s ours.”

I pause, scanning the room. “Some of you might be scared. That’s normal. But fear doesn’t win battles. Courage does. And tonight, we fight not just for ourselves, but for each other.”

A ripple of agreement moves through the crowd, the tension easing slightly as resolve replaces uncertainty.

“This ends now,” I say firmly. “We hit them hard, we hit them fast, and we don’t stop until Rossi’s empire is nothing but ashes.”

The room erupts in a low roar of agreement, weapons raised in solidarity. I glance at Marco, who gives me a curt nod, then at Zoey, whose eyes shine with a mix of fear and pride. I offer her a brief smile before stepping down from the platform.

The plan issimple but aggressive. Rossi’s forces are approaching from the east, using an industrial yard as their staging ground. We’ll divide into three teams: one to block their advance, one to flank them, and one to protect the hostages Rossi’s men have taken as leverage. My team will lead the charge, hitting Rossi’s forces head-on while the others execute their roles.

As we gear up, Marco pulls me aside. “You sure about this?” he asks, his voice low.

“Absolutely,” I reply, strapping a knife to my belt. “It’s the only way to end this.”

He nods, though his expression remains tense. “Just make sure you come out of this alive.”

“I’ll do my best,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder.

The convoy movesout just before midnight, our vehicles weaving through the dark streets toward the industrial yard. The tension in the air is palpable, every man and woman in the convoy bracing for the fight ahead. I sit in the lead vehicle, my hand resting on my gun as the city blurs past.

“Ready?” I ask Zoey, who sits beside me, her face pale but resolute.

“Ready,” she replies, her voice steady.

The industrial yardcomes into view, its towering metal structures casting long shadows under the floodlights. Rossi’s forces are already there, their vehicles parked in a loose formation, armed men patrolling the perimeter. The hostages are huddled in the center of the yard, guarded by several of Rossi’s soldiers.

“We move in three waves,” I say over the radio. “Team one, block their retreat. Team two, flank from the west. Team three, cover the hostages. On my signal.”

Acknowledgments crackle through the radio, and I signal for my driver to stop. We climb out of the vehicles, the cold night air biting at my skin as I motion for my team to spread out.

“Let’s go,” I say, my voice low but firm.

The first shotsring out as we move into position, the sound sharp and deafening in the stillness of the night. Rossi’s men scramble to respond, but our initial assault catches them off guard. I lead the charge, my gun steady as I take out two of their sentries.

The yard erupts into chaos as bullets fly and men shout orders. I keep moving, my focus locked on the task at hand. Every step feels heavier, the weight of years of animosity driving me forward.

Rossi’s forces recover quickly,their numbers giving them an advantage. They push back, forcing us into cover as the fight intensifies. I glance at Marco, who’s crouched beside me behind a stack of crates.

“They’re better organized than we thought,” he says, reloading his weapon.

---