28. Brando
28
brANDO
T he frigid wind stings me like a knife and sinks deep into my bones. Each breath I take adds tension to the already tense atmosphere. Above, the stormy sky looms ominously in preparation of the coming violence. The city is cloaked in darkness, its lights dimmed by the approaching tempest. But it's not the weather that fuels my anger - it's the fury burning inside me.
“Looks like a storm’s coming,” Scar mutters, his voice battling against the roaring wind. His words barely reach my ears, drowned out by the growing energy in the air. It's definitely a storm, but not just any storm - it's a storm of rage, and it's not just in the sky.
I don't even need to look at him to feel his restless energy matching mine. We stand side by side, our silhouettes standing out against the dark sky, a reflection of the battle about to unfold. Lightning slashes across the sky, fierce and wild, foretelling of the chaos heading towards Frank.
“Any updates?” I ask calmly, though inside I'm seething with turmoil.
“Not yet,” Scar responds, his hand twitching at his side. “Patience.”
Thunder booms, powerful and threatening, causing the very ground to tremble. I turn to Scar, my eyes blazing with icy determination, mirroring the next burst of lightning. My coat is pulled tight against the wind, and I lean in closer as I speak in a low voice that cuts through the howling storm.
“We have to end this tonight.”
It's not just a promise. It's a vow.
From the moment I barged into Scar's room, urgency coursing through me, I've been living on borrowed time. Mia's life hung in the balance. Without hesitation, Scar gathered our weapons and rallied our comrades, moving swiftly like shadows in the night on our rescue mission. No one hesitated. No one questioned. We all knew what was at stake.
We met briefly with Jayson Caluna, our informant who gave us the final pieces of intel. Everything was in place, and now we were at the edge of a violent and final moment.
The first drops of rain hit the pavement softly, like tremors before an earthquake. Then it pours down in a relentless storm, giving us the perfect backdrop for the onslaught that’s coming. I barely feel the cold rain soaking through my coat. Each drop counting down to the impending violence that we are about to unleash.
“Time to move,” Rafi's voice crackles through my earpiece, signaling that it’s time to execute our plan.
Without hesitation or looking back, we blend into the shadows with silent precision. The acres surrounding us blurr as we move towards our target - Frank's compound.
Each step brings us closer to his operation and fuels my determination. The city is buzzing with anticipation for this long-awaited battle between us and Frank. And I am determined to make sure he doesn't see another sunrise. This ends, tonight.
My focus sharpens as we approach our target - Mia. She is all that matters now. I can't let her slip away from me again.
I take a deep breath, the cold air biting through me. My hair sticks to my face, but I don’t bother wiping it away. Nothing matters except the mission. The storm inside me roars louder, matching the fury in my veins, propelling me forward. Frank has seen his final days.
And Mia… she’ll be in my arms again, where she belongs.
We round the corner, the sprawling silhouette of Frank’s compound now visible in the distance. Guard towers. Armed men patrolling the perimeter. The walls are high, the gates locked tight. But none of that matters.
I glance at Scar. He’s already got his weapon out, a wicked smile on his face—nothing like the calm, collected man I’ve come to trust. This is war. And in war, there are no rules.
We get closer, closer still. The guard at the gate doesn’t see us coming. By the time he’s aware, it’s too late. One shot. That’s all it takes. The silence of it, the precision, makes my blood run colder.
We breach the compound swiftly. The rain beats down on us harder now, but it’s nothing compared to the chaos inside the walls. Flashlights swing through the darkness; shouts echo through the compound. It’s chaos now, but it’s controlled chaos. Our men are moving in perfect synchronization. Every movement is a step closer to Mia.
I can almost hear her voice, feel her presence—so close, so goddamn close.
“Clear left!” Scar calls out, his voice cutting through the chaos. A burst of gunfire erupts from his position, a few more guards falling.
I don’t wait for instructions. I don’t need them. I’m already moving, one foot after the other, toward the central building where Mia is being held. The closer I get, the sharper the scent of blood and sweat becomes. I can feel the end drawing near.
“Right behind you,” Rafi’s voice crackles in my ear. He’s in position, too
I slam through the door of the building, my heart thundering in my chest. There’s no hesitation. No second-guessing. I’m a man possessed, and Frank is the last thing standing in my way, the last thing standing between me and my future.
Mia is in that room. She’s waiting.
And I’m coming for her.
Explosions tear through the night, splitting the air with a deafening roar. The earth shakes beneath our feet as concrete crumbles like sandcastles in the face of a storm. Shattered glass rains down, the harsh sounds of breaking metal and snapping wood drowning out the shouts and curses of the men around me. The chaos is so thick, so suffocating, it feels like the entire world is about to collapse in on itself. Bullets ricochet off steel and stone, the sharp ping of impact reverberating through the compound. This is war. And it’s all happening here—at Falcone’s compound, where the final act will play out.
My voice slices through the chaos, harsh and urgent: “Move, move!” It’s a command, not a suggestion, and it’s enough to snap the men around me into action. We descend upon the compound like ghosts of vengeance, moving through the smoke and shadow, a sea of black-clad figures in a world gone mad.
I barely feel the ground beneath me as I push forward. My eyes lock onto the objective: the heart of the compound, the building where Mia is being held. It feels like hours have passed in the last few minutes, but I can’t afford to think about that now. There’s only my one singular focus. There’s only her.
Scar’s right behind me, his movements a blur of lethal precision. His pistol is an extension of his arm—smooth, effortless, deadly. A man of few words, but every pull of the trigger speaks volumes. His aim is perfect, his targets falling in rapid succession, their bodies dropping like ragdolls. The air is thick with the sound of gunfire, the acrid scent of smoke, and the unmistakable tang of blood. But Scar doesn’t flinch. He’s been through worse. We both have.
“Left flank, heavy fire!” The crackling voice in my ear belongs to Rafi, his tone sharp, his pulse quickened but steady. I can almost hear the sweat on his skin, feel the tension in his breath. The enemy is dug in deep, but we’re closing in.
I see him move through the shadows with predatory grace, another one of our allies. His eyes scan, dissecting the battlefield's anatomy. Each step measured, every breath a calculated risk.
I see his lips move from the short distance where he stands. “Scar,” he whispers to himself, recognizing my brother’s silhouette.
A glint of metal from above—a sniper’s scope. Intent on Scar.
“Down!” the Enforcer barks, lunging at Scar as he lifts his gun, throwing himself into the spray of bullets. Miraculously, he doesn’t sustain so much as a scrape as he rolls across the ground and out of harm’s way.
Scar hits the ground, a bullet whizzing overhead where his head had been moments before.
“Dammit!” Scar growls, rolling to take cover.
“Keep your thanks,” the Enforcer grunts, not waiting for an ounce of gratitude. His eyes are already scanning the roof, his weapon trained on the sniper’s position.
Without another word, the Enforcer raises his gun, takes aim, and in one swift motion, a shot rings out, cutting through the chaos like a knife through flesh. The sniper’s perch falls silent. The threat is neutralized, the man who once had the upper hand now a corpse in the rain.
“Clear,” the Enforcer calls. His voice is steady, devoid of emotion. He’s not here for glory. He’s here for results.
I hear Scar’s low chuckle, tinged with both annoyance and grudging respect. “Good save,” he admits finally, his voice rough as he glances across the battlefield to the Enforcer.
The two men lock eyes, a shared understanding passing between them. It’s brief—just a heartbeat, a silent acknowledgment of what was just done—but it speaks volumes. This is no game. This is survival.
“Go!” I bark, my voice snapping them back into motion. There’s no time for anything else. The job’s not done. The dance of destruction continues.
I push forward, gun raised, moving with purpose. My boots slap against the wet concrete, the rain pelting my face like tiny needles, but I don’t feel it. The roar of gunfire and the sharp crack of bullets are a symphony of violence that I’ve learned to ignore. The only thing that matters is getting to Mia. The only thing that matters is ending this nightmare.
Scar is by my side, moving like a phantom through the haze of smoke and gunfire. The Enforcer is somewhere ahead, always watching, always calculating. Every step we take is one closer to the center of the compound, to the wing where Mia is being held. I don’t know how many men we’ve killed; how many have fallen under our onslaught. I don’t care. I only care about one thing.
Mia.
“Left side,” Rafi’s voice crackles in my ear. “Contact! We’ve got more incoming!”
I don’t stop. I don’t slow. I turn, instinctively raising my gun, my eyes trained on the emerging threat. A handful of Falcone’s men rush from behind the side of the house, their guns raised. They don’t have time to backtrack before we open fire with a barrage of bullets.
The fight is brutal, raw, and unforgiving. I see one man drop as Scar’s bullets tear through him, the body crumpling to the ground in a heap. The Enforcer’s shot is quick and merciless, another body falling under his precision. But there’s no time to celebrate. The compound is still crawling with men, more closing in with every second.
I press forward without stopping to catch my breath. The sound of my heartbeat pounds in my ears, drowning out the rest of the world. I can feel the weight of the moment—the last push. The storm outside is nothing compared to the one inside me.
We reach the main building. The door is locked, but that’s no problem. Scar’s already working the mechanism, a quick burst from his pistol blowing the lock off with a satisfying crack.
We rush forward, where the air is thick with the smell of sweat, and fear.
We’re close. I can feel it.
There’s nothing – and no one – that will stop me from getting Mia back. Nothing.