"They found a heavily fortified Costa stronghold," I correct her brutally. "They made a fatal error. They walked into my cage."
I pull her toward the walk-in closet. The closet is massive, lined with custom cedar shelving. I push past the rows of tailored suits and reach the back wall. I press my palm against a hidden biometric scanner. A green light flashes. The entire back wall slides open, revealing a reinforced steel panic room.
"Get inside," I order, pushing her gently but firmly toward the dark opening.
She digs her heels into the carpet. She grabs my thick forearm. Her small hands contrast against my heavy, heavily inked arm. "Matteo, no. What are you doing? You cannot fight six men alone. Wait for your security team."
"My security team is three minutes out. Those men will breach the elevator shaft in one. I will not let them reach this floor. I will not let them get within a hundred yards of you."
"You are going to get yourself killed!" she shouts, the panic finally breaking through her composed facade.
I cup her face with my free hand. My thumb strokes across her cheekbone. The softness of her skin is a stark contrast to the violence humming in my blood. I lean down, pressing my forehead against hers.
"I am the underboss of the Costa family," I tell her, my voice dropping to a dark, lethal whisper. "I am the monster they tell their children about to keep them in line. They are not going tokill me, Clara. I am going to slaughter every single one of them. Because they dared to come near what belongs to me."
She swallows hard. Her eyes search mine, looking for a lie, looking for hesitation. She finds nothing but absolute, terrifying devotion.
"You belong to me," I repeat, the words a sacred vow. "And I protect what is mine. Now get in the vault."
She steps backward into the steel room. The panic room is stocked with water, emergency communications, and a separate ventilation system. It is impenetrable. I press the button on the wall. The heavy steel door begins to slide shut.
"Matteo!" she calls out, her voice cracking as the gap narrows.
"Stay quiet. Do not open this door for anyone but me."
The steel door slams shut. The heavy locking mechanisms engage with a series of loud, industrial clanks. She is sealed. She is safe. The relief washing over me is instantaneous, quickly replaced by pure, unadulterated violence.
I turn my back on the closet. I check the spare magazines in my holster. Three extra clips. Fifty-one rounds. More than enough to paint the alley red.
I walk out of the bedroom and head straight for the private elevator. The elevator only stops at the penthouse and the private garage beneath Il Corvo. I punch the code into the keypad. The doors slide open. I step inside the mirrored box. The reflection staring back at me is not a man who bakes bread at two in the morning to calm his anxiety. The reflection is a butcher. The silver hair at my temples highlights the hardened lines of my face. My dark eyes are void of mercy.
The elevator descends. The hum of the cables is the only sound. I tap the earpiece again.
"Control. Update."
"They breached the kitchen entrance, Boss. They are moving through the main dining room. Moving tactical. Moving fast."
"Cut the power to the main floor. Plunge them into the dark."
"Copy."
The elevator digital display drops. Floor five. Floor four. Floor three.
I roll my shoulders, loosening the heavy muscles of my back. The gold chain taps against my sternum. The Bellantis sent these men to send a message. They want the shipping logs back. They want to ensure their shipment of military-grade weapons arrives unobstructed. They want to kill Arthur Reeves' daughter to tie up the loose end.
They are going to fail.
Floor two. Floor one.
The elevator shudders to a halt. The doors remain closed. I lift the Glock. I aim the barrel directly at the center seam of the steel doors. I regulate my breathing. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. The smell of gun oil and cold metal is comforting. It is the smell of my youth. It is the smell of the war I never truly escaped.
The earpiece crackles. "Power is cut, Boss. You have the green light."
I smash my fist against the manual override button.
The elevator doors slide open, exposing the pitch-black service hallway behind the main kitchen of Il Corvo. Total darkness. Absolute silence.
I step out of the elevator. The hunt begins.
