Page 62 of The Enforcer's Possession
“Listen to me.”I kept my voice low, just for her.“You stay behind me.Three meters back minimum.You move when I move, you stop when I stop.If shooting starts, you get behind cover and you stay there until I clear the area.Understood?”
“Understood.”Her voice was steady.Too steady, probably adrenaline overriding her fear.
“Remember what I said.If I tell you to run, you don’t argue.You don’t try to help.You run back to the command vehicle and you let my teams handle extraction.Your brother’s life depends on everyone following their assignments, and your assignment is to stay alive.”I made sure she was looking at me when I continued.“If you compromise this operation because you can’t follow orders, Luca dies.Clear?”
Something flashed in her eyes -- hurt, maybe, or anger at the bluntness.But she nodded.“Clear.”
I wanted to say more.Wanted to tell her that bringing her was a mistake, that I should have locked her in my penthouse where she’d be safe even if she hated me for it.That seeing her in tactical gear about to enter a combat situation was doing things to my chest that felt too much like fear and I didn’t do fear, hadn’t in years, not since I’d learned that fear got people killed.
I pressed my comms.“I’m heading in with Caterina.”
My hand moved to Caterina’s shoulder, squeezed once.“Stay behind me.Stay alive.We’ll get your brother back.”
She covered my hand with hers for just a moment.“I trust you.”
The words hit harder than they should have.Trust.Like I’d earned it.Like I deserved it after blackmailing her into marriage and controlling every aspect of her life.But she was looking at me with eyes that said she meant it, that whatever had happened between us in the past hours had shifted something fundamental.
I couldn’t think about that now.Couldn’t afford distraction when lives hung in the balance.I released her shoulder and moved into position.“Remember your training.Watch your sectors.Don’t freeze.”
I felt Caterina shift behind me, heard her breathing go shallow with anticipation.Everything I’d ever learned about close-quarters combat lined up in my muscle memory, ready to execute.Then I was moving, Glock raised and tracking, each step calculated to maintain cover while advancing into the unknown.
The warehouse interior hit me with sensory overload -- muzzle flashes lighting up the darkness from three different positions, the sharp crack of automatic weapons fire echoing off concrete and metal beams, shouts in Italian cutting through the chaos.My training took over, each target assessed and prioritized in the fraction of a second before I fired.
First guard, positioned behind a forklift fifteen meters in -- center mass, double tap.He dropped before his body registered the hits.Second guard, emerging from behind stacked pallets to my left -- I pivoted, fired three times as he tried to track me.He spun and fell, his weapon clattering across concrete.
“Area clear.Alpha team moving.”Rizzo’s voice in my ear, confirming his four-man squad was pushing through their entry point.
More guards emerging from the shadows.I counted five visible, probably more in defensive positions I hadn’t cleared yet.One opened fire from an elevated catwalk, bullets chewing into the concrete where I’d been standing a second before.I rolled behind a steel support beam, returned fire, saw him jerk backward as my shots found flesh.
The firefight unfolded in bursts of violence punctuated by tactical repositioning.I moved with the kind of fluid precision that came from muscle memory older than thought, clearing corners and advancing through the warehouse’s maze of equipment and storage.Each shot was deliberate, economical, finding its mark because missing wasn’t an option when your wife was somewhere behind you trusting you to keep her alive.
A guard lunged from behind a shipping container, knife gleaming in the muzzle flash light.Too close for the Glock -- I shoved it in my holster and caught his wrist as the blade descended toward my throat.His momentum carried him into me, and I used it, redirecting his force while driving my knee into his solar plexus.He grunted, tried to adjust his grip on the knife.I twisted his wrist with enough pressure that bone snapped with a wet crack.He screamed.I drove my elbow into his throat, crushing his larynx, and he dropped, choking on his own blood.
Another guard charged from behind the forklift, betting on surprise and rage to overwhelm training.He swung wildly, telegraphing his punch so obviously I almost felt bad for him.Almost.I ducked under his arm, drew my combat knife from its thigh sheath, and slashed in one continuous motion across his femoral artery.Blood sprayed in an arc that painted the concrete red.He stumbled, clutching at the wound like pressure could stop arterial bleeding, and collapsed within seconds.
I was already moving, already tracking the next threat, my peripheral vision cataloging Caterina’s position behind a support beam where I’d indicated.She was exactly where I’d told her to be, exactly three meters back, her body pressed against concrete for cover.But her eyes were on me, wide and dark and dilated with something that looked like horror mixing with fascination.She was watching me kill with the kind of efficiency that didn’t allow for mercy or hesitation, watching the man she’d married show her exactly what years of professional violence looked like when unleashed.
The warehouse fell into momentary quiet as the last visible guard collapsed.Smoke from the breaching charge drifted through the space, catching in the emergency lighting that had kicked on.Cordite smell mixing with blood and fear sweat.Bodies scattered across the floor in positions that said they’d died fast.
“Alpha team, status?”I pressed my comms while scanning for additional threats.
“North section secure,” Rizzo confirmed.“Three hostiles down.No casualties on our side.”
“Bravo team secure,” Francesca reported.“South entrance controlled.We’re holding position for your advance.”
I signaled to Caterina, watching her process the carnage around us.Blood pooled beneath bodies.Shell casings littered the concrete.The air tasted like metal and violence.She pushed away from the support beam with hands that only trembled slightly, her eyes finding mine across the space.
“Stay close,” I said, voice low.“We’re not done.”
She nodded, moving to my position with careful steps that avoided the worst of the blood.Her face was pale but composed, her jaw set in that stubborn Lombardi line.Whatever she’d felt watching me kill, she was processing it without breaking down.
Good.Because Marco was still somewhere in this warehouse.And Luca was running out of time.
I advanced deeper into the building, Caterina’s footsteps behind me.The tactical chatter in my earpiece.The weight of bodies I’d put down and the ones I still needed to eliminate.
I pushed forward through the smoke and cordite haze, Glock tracking as I cleared the next section of warehouse.Caterina’s footsteps stayed exactly three meters behind me like I’d ordered, her breathing audible in the sudden quiet that followed the gunfire’s echo.Rizzo’s team had secured the north section, Francesca held the south, but the central bay remained uncleared.My gut said that’s where we’d find Luca.
Emergency lighting cast everything in harsh white and deep black, no gradation between.I advanced with the Glock raised, each step placing my weight carefully to minimize sound.
