Fast and violent.
And drove both fists into Vincenzo’s face.
Left hook—sharp, brutal—slamming into his cheekbone with a sickening crack.
Right cross—driving straight into the bridge of his nose.
The impact jolted up my arms, pain blooming in my knuckles as cartilage gave way beneath the force of my strike.
For the first time since I’d known him—
Vincenzo staggered.
His head snapped back, eyes widening in genuine shock, as if he hadn’t expected me—of all people—to hit him like that.
To fight back.
To break his control.
Before he could recover—
I moved.
Using every ounce of strength I had left, I launched myself upward and drove my body into him with brutal force.
My foot connected with his chest.
Once.
Then again.
The first kick slammed into his sternum.
The second caught him harder—square in the ribs—as he twisted instinctively to regain balance.
Air exploded from his lungs in a sharp, strangled wheeze.
His body crashed backward into the side of the Hilux with a metallic bang, the impact reverberating through the loading bay.
The force of it dented the vehicle’s panel, the sound echoing sharply as one of the side mirrors snapped loose and clattered to the ground, spinning once before going still.
For half a second—
silence.
Then—chaos.
Boots slammed against concrete from every direction.
Voices shouted over each other.
“Secure the perimeter—!”
“Contact—!”
“Get her—!”
Men poured out of the shadows like they had been waiting for this exact moment.
