Page 73 of Texting My Mafia Boss

“Breathe,” Sylvie murmurs. “Like when you have a bad dream.”

I wouldn’t be able to stay calm if it wasn’t for her. Gunshots are cracking all around us. It’s like being in the middle of a lightning storm.

Finally, I make it out of the maze. The man roars. I glance behind me to see him rushing at us, knife in hand, blood spraying from his nose.

I duck my head and run. I know the estate better than him. Once we’re inside, I duck left, left again, then take the service corridor which leads all the way to the pantry. I hear him distantly in the house, shouting, kicking things.

Livia is waiting for us next to the heavy steel door of the panic room.

“In, in, in,” she says, waving at us.

I rush inside, dropping onto a couch, as Livia pulls the heavy door shut.

“Well done,” I tell Sylvie, hugging her tightly. “You were so calm. So brave.”

“Thank—you.”

She bursts into tears and buries her face in my shirt.

CHAPTER 26

ETTORE

“Fucking hell,” Mark whispers as we approach the estate. It’s a bloodbath at the entrance, five bodies strewn across the concrete, bloody red smears marking their demise.

“Keep your head on,” I growl, then knock on the driver’s partition. “Gear up. We’re all warriors today.”

“Yes, sir.”

I leap from the car and walk around to the trunk, grabbing a semi-automatic and shouldering it. My mind tries to go to all the ugly things that could be happening, all the depravity, all the evil I know they’re capable of. There’s no telling what they’re doing to my girl and my woman if?—

But I can’t go there, can’t entertain it. I have to be ice.

They’ve blown away the gate’s lock with explosives. They came prepared. Something tells me they’ve been planning this for a while.

I rush onto the estate, scanning the terrain.

“Left,” Mark roars.

I spin, spotting two men pop up from behind the fountain. I drop to a knee and aim, pulling the trigger in controlled bursts. I try not to enjoy this, but these bastards deserve it. Falling face-first into the fountain, dead because some lowlifes convinced them they could step to me. To Ettore fucking Bellandi, the king of this town.

Motherfuckers. They’re all dead.

Raging, I move through the front door. I take the quieter corridors as I make my way toward the safe room, Mark at my shoulder. More of my men are arriving, but we need to be careful. Mark roars when a man in a stained white uniform leaps at him with a knife, stabbing him in the shoulder.

“Turn him my way,” I growl at Mark.

He winces, wrestling with the man, then jerks him toward me. I bash him on the side of the head with the grip of my rifle. He grunts, then slumps in Mark’s grip.

“Finish him,” I say, then I keep moving. Behind me, I hear the wet noises of a knife furiously taking a life.

I sneak toward the pantry, ducked low, reloading with a fresh magazine. I’ve only got one left. Hopefully there aren’t too many of these fucks.

I stop with my back to the wall outside the door. I can hear Bastian. “We’ve got a drill out here, little pigs,” he says, chuckling. “Don’t make me huff and puff and drill a hole in your little prison and come in there and do whatever the fuck I want to… I think I lost my three little piggies theme there, ladies, but you get the point.”

“Take whatever you want,” Livia calls, her voice poised and civilized. “But leave us alone.”

Mark joins me, crouching low, covered in blood. Some his, most not. I raise my finger to my lips, then peek around the corner. I pull back and move down the wall, lowering my voice to just barely above a whisper. “Four men, including Bastian. Bastian is the second from the left. I’ll take the two on the right. You take the far left.”