“What do you have in mind?” I held his gaze.
His brow was slow to rise. “Family?”
It took me a second to understand and my lips twitched. “Tomorrow?”
He nodded. “Sunrise.”
I didn’t hear the first shot so much as feel it, the air tearing past my ear with a hot whisper that snapped something feral awake in my chest before my brain caught up. My body moved on instinct, dropping hard behind the overturned table, palms scraping tile, gun already in my hand because this was the only language men like D’Angelo ever really spoke.
“Fuckers!” I roared, the word ripping out of me like a promise. “Renz?”
“I’m good,” he shouted, drawing out his weapon tucked into the waistband of his pants as a bullet hit the wall inches from his face, blasting through plaster and bits of wall. “You got eyes on them?”
Relief didn’t exist in me, but something close to it loosened in my lungs. He was alive. That was all that mattered.
“Five, rooftop!” Dario yelled from the opposite end. “Our men outside will catch them, focus on the ones coming at us.”
I leaned out just enough to count shadows between muzzle flashes, already choosing who died first. “I got six on the left embankment,” I returned count.
Silence descended for a moment. They’d lost sight of us. Amateurs.
“Stay low and head for the right-wing.” Lorenzo’s voice cut through steady and controlled like always.
Rolling onto my stomach, I crawled trench-style toward the right, closing the distance between us. Dario slid in on the other side. Just as we reached the arched entrance, hell broke loose. Bullets screamed through the air as two men burst through the entrance.
“Back!” Lorenzo yelled to be heard. “Fuck…”
I didn’t hear the rest. My legs were already moving. Standing. Vaulting the chair. Charging straight into gunfire because the fastest way to end a fight was to make the other side panic.
I rushed them head-on, both guns up, emptying rounds into their chests as another three followed. Their bodies jerked and dropped, one slamming into the doorway hard enough to crack wood. Blood sprayed warm across my hands. Pain bloomed suddenly in my arm, a punch of heat, but it barely registered, I just adjusted my grip and kept firing.
To my right, Lorenzo opened fire on the two that came through the left entrance, taking them down at the knees before finishing the rest with calm, clean shots to the head. He always made it look surgical. I preferred messy.
Then my foot slipped on blood and debris, and I dropped out of sight behind the overturned furniture.
“Remo!” Before I could answer, he was already moving toward me like a damn fool.
“Renz!” Dario barked over the sound of gunfire. “Get down!”
Ignoring him, he ducked bullets and dropped beside me, eyes scanning me fast, checking for damage like he used to when we were kids and I came home bleeding.
“You okay?”
I answered the only way that mattered, leaning out and opening fire on another couple of men as they came through the doorway. A bullet sliced the air so close to his face I felt it too.
“You have a fucking death wish, brother?” I yanked his arm just as the wall behind him exploded.
“That coming from a fucking ass who charged live bullets face first.” Even now he could mock me. I almost laughed.
He moved first again, smashing a guy with his elbow, crushing another’s throat with his bare hand, quick and easy. I watched his back the entire time, shooting anything that got within breathing distance.
“Get down, Renz!” Dario’s shouted. A knife flashed and the body dropped.
Silence settled over us for a moment, the magic aftertaste of violence.
“Let’s go.” Lorenzo helped me up. “D’Angelo’s ass is fucked.”
I looked down at my blood-soaked sleeve and flexed my arm. Still worked. We moved through the estate together, shoes whispering over tile, guns raised. Eyes scanning corners, doorways, shadows, anything that so much as twitched.
