Chapter 20 #2
The answer did nothing to ease the lethal rage building in Stefano's chest. Someone had orchestrated this attack—someone who would suffer consequences beyond imagination once Leo was secure.
On the screen, Leo had just woken up, hair tousled from sleep as he sat on the edge of his bed.
Stefano watched as their little prince's hand slid beneath his waistband, his head falling back as he touched himself.
The surveillance feed captured Leo's lips forming familiar names—their names—as pleasure mixed with frustration on his features.
Stefano's cock hardened instantly at the sight of Leo pleasuring himself while thinking of them, their little wildcat's need evident even through the digital feed.
Even after six months apart, even through a surveillance feed, Leo's beauty hit Stefano with physical force, making his possessive instincts roar to life.
"Landing zone secure," the pilot announced twenty-eight minutes into the flight. "Ground team standing by with vehicles."
The helicopter descended toward a cleared area nestled among dense pine forest. As the skids touched down, Stefano was already moving, ducking beneath still-spinning blades and striding toward the convoy of black SUVs where additional Vitale soldiers waited.
"Status," he demanded as they climbed into the lead vehicle.
"Perimeter breach in progress," reported the commander, already accelerating onto the narrow forest road. "Multiple hostiles approaching from the northeast quadrant. Our team is engaging, but they're well equipped."
Stefano's jaw tightened as he checked his weapon, the familiar weight of the Glock settling into his palm like an extension of his rage. "Time to cottage?"
"Fifteen minutes in these conditions."
"Make it ten."
The forest blurred past as the SUV tore down the winding road, tires finding purchase as they accelerated toward the cottage.
Stefano tucked the tablet away, fixing his gaze on the road ahead.
His vision edged crimson with each passing second, primitive alpha rage building in his chest at the thought of unknown men approaching what belonged to him. What had always belonged to him.
Leo. His little prince. Naked. Vulnerable. Unaware.
"Two minutes out," the driver reported as the first glimpse of the cottage came into view through the trees.
The crack of distant gunfire shattered the morning peace.
The sound ignited something primal in Stefano's blood—not fear, not concern, but savage territorial fury that threatened to overwhelm rational thought.
His canines ached with the need to tear throats, to taste the blood of anyone who dared threaten what was his.
"I want maximum force," Stefano commanded, voice dropping to that deadly register that had made hardened criminals soil themselves. "No survivors unless I personally designate otherwise."
"Understood," the tactical team commander confirmed, loading his weapon.
The convoy screeched to a halt at the outer perimeter. Stefano was moving before the SUV stopped rocking, weapon drawn, blood roaring in his ears. The cottage stood a hundred yards away, morning sunlight glinting off windows that had never been meant to witness such violence.
"Marco, east entrance. Matteo, secure the perimeter," Stefano ordered, the three of them moving in perfect synchronicity born from years of operating as a lethal unit. "I'll take the front. Leo is priority one."
The alphas separated, each moving toward their designated target.
Stefano advanced toward the front door, every sense heightened by adrenaline and alpha rage.
The scent of gunpowder and blood already tainted the morning air, mingling with the distant hint of winter jasmine that called to something primitive in his chest.
A hostile emerged from behind a garden shed, weapon raised. Stefano's bullet caught him between the eyes, brain matter splattering across Akiko's carefully tended hydrangeas in a macabre arc. The man's body crumpled like discarded paper, already forgotten as Stefano advanced.
Two more attackers appeared at the cottage's side entrance. Stefano dispatched them—one shot, two shots, both finding lethal homes in vital organs. Blood sprayed across the white siding, bright crimson against pristine paint.
With each kill, the alpha bloodlust intensified, feeding on itself in a primal loop of violence and possession. These weren't just enemies—they were threats to his mate, to the omega who belonged to him, to the future he'd planned for three long years.
In the distance, Marco's distinctive three-shot pattern echoed through the trees, followed by Matteo's single, precise report. His brother and cousin were claiming their own body count, their own trail of destruction leading to the same prize.
Stefano reached the front door, finding it already ajar, evidence of forced entry that made his vision swim with killing rage. Someone had violated the sanctuary he'd established for Leo. Someone had dared to breach what belonged to him.
Another attacker appeared in the doorway. Stefano's bullet caught him in the throat, silencing whatever warning the man might have shouted to his companions. Blood fountained from the ruined windpipe, spraying across the entryway as the body pitched forward at Stefano's feet.
Stepping over the twitching corpse, Stefano entered the cottage, weapon raised, senses hyper-focused on a single goal: finding Leo.
The scent of winter jasmine called to him now, stronger inside despite the competing reek of gunpowder and death.
It pulled at something primal in his chest, guiding him through the chaos like a beacon.
A hostile emerged from the kitchen, weapon already firing.
Bullets whined past Stefano's head, splintering wood behind him as he dropped into a crouch, returning fire.
Three shots in rapid succession—chest, neck, forehead.
The man's face dissolved into a red mist, body collapsing in a boneless heap.
The staircase beckoned, and Stefano took it three steps at a time, following the strengthening scent of winter jasmine. Leo was close. Leo was upstairs. Leo was his, and nothing would keep Stefano from reaching him.
At the top of the landing, an attacker appeared, weapon raised. Stefano's bullet caught him under the jaw, the exit wound spraying bone fragments and brain matter across the hallway behind him. The body tumbled backward, arms flailing like a broken marionette.
Distant screaming reached his ears—Akiko's voice, high and panicked, calling Leo's name.
The sound only intensified the killing rage pumping through Stefano's veins.
These animals had frightened his omega's caretakers, had brought violence into Leo's sanctuary.
Their deaths would be the least of the punishment Stefano would inflict.
Steam seeped from beneath the bathroom door at the end of the hall, carrying Leo's winter jasmine scent, now spiked with unmistakable fear.
The recognition that Leo was frightened—that his little prince was cowering, vulnerable and alone—sent Stefano's alpha nature into overdrive, vision bleeding completely crimson around the edges.
Without hesitation, Stefano delivered a powerful kick that exploded the bathroom door inward, wood fragmenting across the tiled floor. Steam billowed out, momentarily obscuring his vision before clearing to reveal a sight that turned his blood to molten rage.
Leo—his Leo—was curled against the shower wall, trembling violently, naked body folded into itself like a terrified child.
Those amber eyes Stefano had dreamed about for years were wide with primal panic, tears streaming down his face.
His little prince was hyperventilating, each breath a shallow gasp that barely filled his lungs.
The sight of Leo reduced to this state of terror triggered something primitive and violent in Stefano's chest. His vision went completely crimson, a roar building in his throat as every alpha instinct screamed to protect, to kill, to destroy anything that had caused his mate such fear.
The knowledge that strangers had violated Leo's sanctuary, had made him feel this helpless, ignited a bloodlust so intense it nearly overwhelmed rational thought.
In this moment, Stefano was no longer the calculated mafia don—he was pure alpha predator, driven by the most primal instinct: protect mate, eliminate threats.
And God help anyone who stood between him and what was his.