From the bottom of the stairs, deep inside the wine cellar, Francesco's men could hear the pitter-patter of Alexander's shoes on the stone surface of the stairs. The slow and calculated steps he took were like the gong of a bell announcing their doom.
For the three direct underlings to the Bianchi head, this was not something as fatalistic as for the other two. They were ready to give their life for him.
But for the two others? They were having second thoughts and regrets about having stayed here instead of surrendering.
Their minds were racing with all kinds of scenarios, wondering what kind of person could take down nine men in such a short time. They were thinking they were under attack by some kind of super commando.
But what kind of commando would walk down the stairs, making so much noise, practically announcing his arrival? A crazy one, maybe?
Or a supremely confident one?
