As each recruit emerges from the stairs, I grow increasingly bored. However, the anticipation of tonight's activities keeps me excited as I rest at the table, sipping wine brought by Franco.
Amara descends, and my eyes track her movements. A trickle of blood still flows from her lower lip, and I wish to clean it. I can't deny that her serious eyes, black hair, and bloodied lip give her a dangerously attractive appearance, stirring something within me.
Until the recruits depart with Nicholas and Fiero, I refrain from speaking or texting Amara. She converses with Emilio, who wipes the blood from her lower lip. A surge of anger wells up in me, but I restrain myself. She is not entirely mine yet, though I hope she will be.
In my imagination, she sits on my lap, and I delicately wipe the blood off her lip before kissing her passionately, savoring the flavor of our lips and the intermingling of our blood.
Sigh… There's a considerable distance to cover before achieving that status.Throw myself into the goddamn depths of hell...
It's already quite late when I drop Rafaele off at the apartment. "You're not coming?" Rafa looks at me as he intends to leave the car.
"I have some work left ," I respond, maintaining a deadpan expression.
He frowns. "You should rest once in a while, Romeo. Spend some sweet time with your Juliet." He smirks, making me itch to smack that grin off his face.
"Just get out of the car." He laughs and waves as I leave the parking lot. Glancing through the rear mirror, I see him entering the building. Good.
With passionate acceleration, I overtake other cars, rushing to meet Marcus at the warehouse. Arriving, I step out of my car, footsteps echoing on the hard concrete. Marcus, the new warehouse leader, awaits in front, conversing with three men.
Spotting me, Marcus says, "We've been waiting, boss. The boys are ready for the transport." He pats my back, and I inspect the three men. One is portly, and the other two are quite elderly.
I didn't request guards for discretion, thinking the fewer involved, the better for Salvatore's potential infiltration. I'll personally ensure their protection. "Great. Let's get moving," I say, adding, "No matter what happens, don't stop. I want the drugs there. I'll be tailing you, so focus on reaching the destination. No matter what."
The men nod, and we head to our cars. I start the engine and follow their trucks, taking a shorter, 30-minute route through fields, avoiding the city. My role is to guard them to the nearest warehouse, and I've assigned others to redistribute the drugs afterward.
The trucks progress smoothly, no one tailing us. A few cars pass from the opposite direction. We're nearly there, and as I confirm the road is clear, my plan unfolds seamlessly. I hit the accelerator, zooming past them, scanning the road. Spotting the warehouse ahead, I call the three men, assuring them of the safe route.
Swerving with a drift , I soon pass them in the opposite direction, my car speeding towards our starting point. With three more trucks to escort, I trace the road swiftly, determined to maintain the pace.
After few minutes , my phone rings, and Sila's voice greets me.
"Boss, the trucks made it safely."
"Great. I'll be returning with the rest shortly," I respond, my voice filling the car. My speedy vehicle allows me to finish the job sooner than anticipated. Maybe I should get Rafaele the same model; he'd love it.
Upon returning to the parking lot, Marcus is not waiting for me and the trucks are missing. Something is amiss.
Hearing a gunshot, I check the entrance cameras—shot. Someone dares to sneak up on me. It can only mean Marcus or someone tipped Salvatore about our plan to move the drugs. Damn it!
I draw my gun and cautiously open the door. Two men lie on the ground with gunshot wounds to their foreheads. Blood pools beneath them. One of them is Marcus. I grit my teeth, moving behind shelves as a male voice shouts, and gunfire erupts.
I glance and hear the distinct sound of the killer reloading his gun. Judging by the gunshot, it's a 9mm handgun, specifically a Sig Sauer P365. What I can also deduce is how many shots he can fire from now on. Ten rounds.
Advancing with quick steps, I survey the scene to identify survivors and locate the killer. As I inadvertently knock against a metal bottle, it produces a noise that draws three shots from the killer in my direction.
Responding with two shots of my own, I press forward. The moonlight offers a glimpse of the surprisingly short killer, adorned with a black balaclava face mask. He manipulates the hostage, a man held at knifepoint.
I'm impressed; he executed this plan in less than half an hour. Taking a hostage is a clever move when solo, hunting a single target like myself. However, I intend to outsmart him.
Carefully aiming to avoid casualties, I shoot at the masked man, who retaliates with four more shots. Three bullets left… almost got you. I fire again, closing the distance by taking cover behind a large metal box. The masked person hides behind the unfortunate bearded hostage, tracking his movements as he shifts to her left, attempting to gain a better angle. I get a better look at the person , a women , her chest proeminent as I glance.
With my instincts telling me that I shoudn't wait anymore , I leap over the table in front of me, heading straight for the killer. She shoots the remaining three bullets, and I'm grateful for my bulletproof vest, which shields me from the shot aimed at my heart .After, I miraculously evade the two shots aimed at my head.
My legs propel the two individuals on the ground, and the man cries out as the knife embeds in his back. I chuckle briefly, locking eyes with the killer.
The killer's got a cut on the lower lip – a lip I damn well know. One I've had my fair share of fantasies about, of course.
Rising, I drag the man away from her. Wincing, she regains her footing, pointing her gun at me. I kick the body on the ground, observing him cry out. Pointing my gun at his forehead, I fire. I don't want him to suffer any more, nor do I want him to grasp my newfound revelation.
"Don't come closer. I'll shoot," her cold, pained voice warns. Unperturbed, I step closer, holstering my gun.
"Shoot," I challenge her. She drops her gun, clenching her fists.
"Useless as your empty gun ," I size her up, and she doesn't appear geared up for the impending skirmish – teeth gnawing on her lower lip, still feeling the pain I inflicted on her ribs when I leaped onto them.
Drawing nearer, she nearly swings a punch at my face, her knee targeting my belly. Swiftly, I seize her fist, yanking her closer, my palm tracing her waist. Simultaneously, my other hand grabs her petite knee, steering the move past my waist.
Our bodies collide, my face mere inches from hers as I tilt my neck down. Her moan resonates in my ears, her labored breath grazing my lips and her hand grabbing my neck .
Suppressing the impulse, I mutter, "Damn," and raise my head, kissing her forehead. My lips press against the material of her mask, and I say in a low tone, "If someone else were in my place, you'd be dead by now."
She remains silent, and I instruct, "Leave ,Bittercandy ."
My finger casually brushes her cheek, and I nonchalantly wipe her lower lip with my thumb. A slight frown forms on my face. I taste the blood I took from her lip with a lick, and a loving smirk finds its way to my lips.
She leaves and glances briefly at me before turning to run.
I contemplate why she did this. Is she with Salvatore? Does it relate to my revenge on my father? Whatever the reason, I must keep her alive to find out. Franco may reconsider giving me the boss position if he knew, but I can manipulate events how I want .After all ,he nicknamed me a Cunning Fox.
Amara is going to be under my watch, and I'll see my plan through because I'm dead set on choosing her.
I'll embrace the bitter sweetness.
Scanning the carnage of over 30 dead bodies, I can't help the rush in my chest. Damn, my gut feeling always hits the bullseye. I knew she had a darkness deeper than a moonless night. Just perfect.
A crazy smile plays on my lips, as I continue strolling through the building to check for witnesses. I overhear a voice engaged in a phone conversation and eavesdrop discreetly.
"Boss, a masked woman took out everyone here, including all the people we bribed. It's like she knew we were planning to steal the drugs. I saw Damiano talking to the killer, and I guess they hired her. Must be a mole in our gang."
Silently stepping closer, I press my gun to the man's temple. Taking the phone, I say wickedly, "Wait for me, Salvatore." Closing the call, I look at the terrified man. "Let's have a talk."
Leading him to the basement, I make him sit behind a desk in one of the offices. "Tell me, when did you become a rat, Luca?" I brush my gun, leaning on the table.
"It's not what it seems like!" he pleads, but I feel disgust rising in me.
"If I torture you, you won't be what you seemed to be, I assure you." I fix him with empty eyes, and he starts trembling. As he falls on his knees, he mumbles that someone forced him into betrayal.
"Take your hands off me," I command, glaring as he complies.
"Let's try again. Tell me since when you worked for Salvatore and what he plans to do next."
He gulps, seeing I'm holding back from violence. He confesses, "I worked with him around the same time Stephan did….." A swift kick to his head interrupts his words, and he collapses.
Anger fuels two more kicks before I compose myself, propping myself back on the desk. I release a deep sigh, looking up in an attempt to alleviate tension from my neck, and then cast a downward glance at him.
Damn it!
Annoyance floods me as I discover Salvatore had two infiltrators. "Are there more rats apart from you?" I demand.
"No… no… we were the only ones," he stammers, rising and looking down, fear etched on his face as he glances at me .
That's the best thing this man could say.
"What is Salvatore planning next?"
The man hesitates, biting his lips. So, he doesn't want to tell me freely. No problem. My foot prints onto his face as he's propelled into the chair, his neck hitting the edge of it. Wincing, he growls back at my feet and starts to mumble.
"Say it clear."
I growl at him, and as he raises his face, he utters the words in a clearer way.
"He will use the Red Sisters… the damned women… to kill you and infiltrate a man to lead your gang." I sigh, taking a cigarette from my pants. After lighting it, I inhale the intoxicating smoke, exhaling calmly as I glance at the man.
He seems surprised to see me not reacting as he expected. Do I have to be shocked? No. I knew he would try this. Do I have to be afraid? No.
I smile as I come up with a perfect plan. He looks confused, and I start to laugh.
"Do you want to know what I think?" He nods.
"I will use the Red Sisters to bring his downfall." I smirk, and terror is visible on his face.
"You can't… they are loyal to him," he tells me, attempting to discourage me.
"Poor thing, you won't get to see that." I take another breath in, closing my eyes. Damn, it fells good.
"Why…?" He frowns, fear evident in his eyes.
"No one who hears my plans lives after." I smirk, and my gun is pointed to his forehead.
One shot left.
Worth the use.
The man collapses on the ground, his eyes wide open.