Page 138 of The Underboss's Secret Twins
A voice crackles through my radio.
"Boss," Silva breathes, and for the first time in years, there’s an edge to his tone I don’t like. "The place looks empty."
I exhale through my nose, forcing my mind to sharpen through the frustration.
They’ve abandoned the villa. Pulled their men back, left us with a hollow shell.
Why?
A distraction.
A misdirect.
We push deeper into the Lombardi villa.
Shadows stretch long across the marble floors, flickering with each pass of our tactical lights. The silence is unnatural, heavy with something I can’t yet name.
I don’t like this.
My men move, sweeping each hallway, each room, their weapons raised and ready. We should be facing heavy resistance by now. Instead, we’re being guided—subtly, methodically—through the estate’s corridors. The open doors, the cleared paths, the distant echo of movement leading us forward.
A labyrinth, designed to make us feel like we’re in control.
But I know better.
"Boss," Rico murmurs, falling in step beside me. His gun is up, his sharp gaze sweeping the space ahead. "This isn’t right. They’re leaving gaps—big ones."
"I know," I grit out.
We round another corner. The hallway ahead splits in two directions—one path leading deeper into the villa, the other toward the back exit. A smart man would take the way out, regroup, rethink the approach.
But we didn’t come here to turn back.
"We stick to the plan," I say, adjusting my grip on my weapon. "We find Vittorio, end this."
Silva nods, but his expression remains tense.
A door creaks somewhere up ahead, the sound low and deliberate. I raise my fist, signaling a halt. My men freeze in place, the air shifting as fingers tighten over triggers, as bodies still with measured control.
We wait.
The faintest shuffle of movement filters through the silence—soft, practiced, someone careful but not careful enough.
I lift my chin. Matteo, one of my best, moves ahead, pressing his back against the wall as he approaches the next door. He glances at me, waits for my signal. I give a curt nod.
The door bursts open.
A single shot cracks through the air.
Matteo drops before the sound even fades, blood spraying the wall behind him.
"Shit—" Silva’s curse is drowned out by the eruption of gunfire.
Bullets rip through the space, shattering the illusion of control. The hallway explodes into chaos—shouts, bodies moving, gunfire flashing in bursts of light.
"Cover!" I bark, pressing against the wall, returning fire.
The enemy is positioned perfectly, using the narrow corridor to their advantage, forcing us into the kill zone. A fucking ambush.
