Page 146 of The Underboss's Secret Twins
My stomach lurches.
Smoke and fire burst from somewhere deeper inside the villa, an explosion ripping through a distant corridor. A warning shot. A fuckingcountdown.
They’re setting them off.
The whole place is about to come down.
I shove forward, fury and desperation colliding, my only thought clear and vicious?—
I have to get my men out before this place turns into a grave.
But the Lombardis aren’t giving up.
We’re pinned down, trapped in a burning fuckingdeath trap, and every bullet, every second wasted, brings us closer to the end.
We have to move.
I grit my teeth, forcing my men forward, forcingmyselfforward, even as the walls tremble around us, even as the smokethickens, even as the weight of this goddamn night crashes down like a hammer.
The villa groans around us, the deep, shuddering sound of stone and wood straining under the force of the explosions. Smoke thickens, curling through the corridors like a living thing, suffocating and hot. The air stings with the acrid bite of gunpowder, fire, and dust. My ears ring, drowning out the gunfire, the shouts, the chaos.
We are running out of time.
I push forward, clearing a path as my men fight to escape. The Lombardis are relentless, pinning us down, forcing us deeper into the maze of hallways instead of out of them. I fire a shot, dropping a soldier as he rounds a corner, then another, my body moving on instinct, my mind calculating every possible exit.
But then I see him.
Through the thick veil of smoke, past the crumbling chandeliers and fractured marble, Vittorio Lombardi stands at the far end of the hall, barking orders to his men.
His sharp profile is illuminated by the flickering glow of fire licking at the edges of the walls. He’s not fighting—he’s commanding. Directing his men, his voice cutting through the noise like steel.
And then—he lifts his arm.
A signal.
I follow his line of sight and spot what he’s pointing at—one of his men kneeling near a detonator, fingers hovering over the trigger.
My blood turns to ice.
He’s going to bring the whole place down now. Not minutes from now. Not when we’ve escaped. But right fucking now.
A distant roar vibrates through the foundation—another explosion, closer this time. The walls tremble. Plaster cracks andfalls like dead snow from the ceiling. The ground beneath my feet shifts.
I have to stop him.
I don’t hesitate.
I break off from the main fight, cutting through the collapsing villa, my gun raised, my focus locked onto Vittorio’s retreating form.
"Silva, get them out!" I bark over my shoulder. "NOW!"
"Boss!" Silva shouts, but I don’t turn back.
I can’t.
I lunge forward, dodging falling debris, leaping over bodies, my breath burning in my throat as I push toward Vittorio. He moves fast, disappearing around a crumbling archway, his men shielding his retreat with a hail of gunfire.
I don’t stop.
