The sound of engines revving outside the mansion was the only indication that the final stages of the plan were underway. The time for preparation had passed. We were about to engage, and I could feel the weight of that truth in every fiber of my being.
I stood alongside Dante and his most trusted men, each of us suited in dark clothing, blending into the shadows. The night was our ally, the moon hanging high above us, casting faint light over the surrounding grounds. But as we approached the convoy of black SUVs parked just beyond the gates, the thrill of what was to come filled my veins like fire.
The plan was simple: storm the compound where our enemies were gathering, eliminate any threats, and seize control before they could strike back. It was a dangerous game, and yet, it was the only option. There was no room for failure, no second chances.
I glanced at Dante beside me, his face set in a mask of determination. His eyes—those dark, piercing eyes—held a fierce intensity. I knew what he was thinking. This was no longer just about business. This was personal. The betrayal from Ivan and Marco had shattered his world, and now it was time to make them pay.
He caught my gaze and gave me a small, almost imperceptible nod. We were in this together, and there was no going back.
"Are you ready?" Dante asked, his voice low but steady.
I gave him a tight smile, the nerves that had once gripped me now replaced by a sharp focus. "I'm not afraid," I said, my voice unwavering. "Let's finish this."
Dante nodded, and we moved out. The SUVs rumbled to life as we piled into the vehicles, the engine's roar signaling the beginning of our assault. The men, some of them veterans in this line of work, were already in position, weapons ready. But despite the preparedness, the tension was palpable. I could sense the anxiety hanging in the air, especially from the newer recruits who had never been in a battle like this before.
The drive felt like an eternity, each minute stretching on longer than the last. I sat beside Dante, the weight of the situation heavy in my chest. This was the moment we had been preparing for, and it could end in victory or catastrophe. The thought of losing him—of everything we had built—flashed through my mind, but I quickly banished it. Fear had no place here.
We arrived at the compound just before dawn, the sprawling complex hidden deep in the woods. It was a perfect location for an ambush, its seclusion making it nearly impossible to detect unless you knew where to look. But we knew. Dante had eyes everywhere.
The convoy pulled into position, the vehicles positioned at key points to block any potential escape routes. My heart pounded in my chest as we got out, the cool night air biting at my skin. The building loomed in front of us, a fortress that now stood between us and the end of this war.
"Remember the plan," Dante muttered to me, his voice low and commanding. "We go in hard and fast. No mercy."
I nodded, my pulse quickening. I wasn't here for mercy. I was here to win. To protect everything I had fought for, to ensure that Dante and I could build something that would last.
The first wave of men moved toward the front entrance, weapons drawn and ready. As I followed behind Dante, I could hear the faintest shuffle of footsteps from inside, the sounds of our enemies who thought they were hidden, unaware of the storm that was about to hit them.
Dante signaled for us to move forward, and we approached the back of the building, using the cover of the trees to shield our approach. Every step was calculated, the tension in the air growing thicker with each passing second. I could see the faint glow of lights through the windows—a sign that our enemies were inside, still unaware of the danger closing in.
Dante held up a hand, signaling for us to stop. He glanced over at me, his gaze locked on mine with a single thought: stay close. My heart skipped a beat, the intensity of his gaze not lost on me. He wasn't just worried about the fight ahead; he was worried about me.
I met his gaze head-on, giving him the smallest nod. I wasn't going to let anything happen to him, either.
Without another word, Dante gave the signal. The door was kicked open with a resounding crash, and all hell broke loose.
Gunfire erupted in a frenzy of noise as the men stormed in, taking out the guards positioned inside. I stayed close to Dante, my senses heightened, my heart pounding in my ears. The air smelled of gunpowder, the metallic scent filling my nostrils as we moved further inside.
Every corner we turned, every hallway we crossed, there was danger lurking—footsteps, shadows, enemies waiting to strike. But Dante was a force of nature, his movements precise and calculated. He led the charge, taking down each threat with lethal efficiency.
I followed close behind, my adrenaline surging. It wasn't my first time in a fight, but the stakes had never been higher. This wasn't just about survival; it was about making sure the people who had wronged us paid the price.
We reached the main room where the leaders of the opposing faction were holed up. The door was barricaded, but it wouldn't hold for long. Dante moved forward, taking position beside the door, signaling for the others to get ready.
"On three," Dante said, his voice cold.
I could hear the enemy inside, their voices muffled but unmistakable. The leaders. The ones who had orchestrated the betrayal.
"One," Dante counted, his hand gripping the handle of his gun.
"Two."
The door was breached with one final shove, and we charged inside, guns raised.
The battle was swift, brutal, and unforgiving. Our enemies, caught off guard, didn't stand a chance. In moments, the room was filled with the stench of death. Dante moved like a storm, his presence overwhelming. I could barely keep up, but I knew exactly where to be. By his side.
And then, just like that, it was over. The room fell silent, save for the sound of labored breathing.
Dante stood in the center of it all, his eyes scanning the room for any remaining threats. But none remained. It was done.
He turned to face me, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. A spark of something dangerous. Something dark.
"You did well," he said, his voice low, almost a growl.
I met his gaze, my breath coming in shallow gasps. "I'm not done yet."
He raised an eyebrow, but before he could speak, a voice echoed from behind us.
"Dante..."
We both turned to see one of the remaining leaders, bloodied but alive. He had been hiding under a pile of dead bodies, trying to escape.
Dante's face hardened, and without hesitation, he approached the man, his gun still in hand.
"Your betrayal ends now."