His head explodes. I drop to my knees as the driver of the second gets out. I shoot him in the hip, in the back, and in the neck. Blood spurts from the third wound. He gags, drops to the ground?—
And I nearly get shot in the face. The bullet whizzes past my ear. I roll sideways, into the street, and come up shooting. The third guard gets hit in the shoulder, but he runs instead of fights. He disappears into the house.
So much for surprise.
I get to my feet, breathing hard, drenched in sweat and blood. I stagger on, following.
This is my home. This is my property. And they have my wife.
I’m about to push in the door when more cars pull up. I turn, getting ready to fire, but just barely manage to hold myself back when Saverino gets out of the lead vehicle, followed by more Corsetti men. They’re good, loyal soldiers, grim-faced killers. Saverino jogs over to me, seemingly unfazed by the corpses I left behind.
“You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine. How many did you bring?”
“Twelve. Plus Prime’s on the way too. He finished cleaning up the hotel.”
“Any blowback?”
“We lost a few, and I have a feeling the cops will be on our ass for years to come. But you got the book back.”
“I got it back.”
“Your father should have told us.”
“I know.”
“You should have, too.”
“Sav? We can argue about this later. My wife’s safety comes first.”
He nods once. “Yes, my Don.”
Those words give me more strength than I ever thought they would. Four of my soldiers take up positions at the door while more go around back to watch our escape. I pull the pin on a flash grenade, and a big man in a skullcap kicks my front door off its fucking hinges.
I toss in the grenade.
Gunfire erupts. I flatten myself on the ground and shut my eyes.
The flashbang explodes. It’s deafeningly loud and bright. My men have done this before, and they storm the door immediately while the guys inside are distracted and temporarily blind. I struggle to stand, growling with agony and effort, and I follow, gun at the ready.
It’s a slaughter. Four thugs were waiting on the steps, but all of them got the flashbang straight to the face. I watch my soldiers mow them down. I push on, toward the back of the house, and come to a staggering halt.
Matteo’s standing by my fireplace. He’s got Kira, one arm across her chest, and a gun pressed to her head.
She looks at me, afraid but alive.
“Don’t move.” Matteo sounds more in control than he is. “Point those guns at the ground.”
I gesture for my men to listen. Matteo’s got three soldiers with him, but they’re heavily outmatched now. If it weren’t for Kira, this would be over.
“Let her go.”
Matteo shows his teeth. It’s a smile or a grimace. I can’t tell. “What happened to Vural? Did you kill him?”
It clicks into place. “You were working with him, weren’t you? Frankie wasn’t the only traitor.”
“Vural was going to remake Philadelphia with that book. I was going to sit at the head of the Corsettis, but look at the fucking mess you made.” Matteo shoves the gun harder against Kira. She yelps, her eyes locked on mine and pleading.
