Chapter 1 Leone #2
Handcuffing my prize to the steering, I pop the passenger door and roll behind the engine block.
The rain is ice on my neck. The cold clears my head.
Across the street, two shadows break cover, making for the alley.
I let one go; I drop the other with a single shot through the knee.
He howls, tries to crawl, but Sandro is on him in seconds. No mercy.
In the rear SUV, a window shatters. Glass hits the pavement in a glittering arc. I hear Claudio’s voice, rough and loud: “Motherfucker!” That’s his only warning before a grenade skitters across the asphalt and lodges under the rear tire.
“Down!” I shout, voice cutting through the storm. The concussion is muffled by the SUV’s frame, but the blast hammers my chest, fills my ears with white noise. , all I see is static.
But I’m not dead.
I crawl, blood in my mouth, up onto the curb. Two more men are down. Carmelo jumps into the SUV to check on the target.
“Status,” I snap into the comm.
“He’s got a cut but he’s fine.” Carmelo says.
Renzo: “Clear. Two down.”
Claudio: “Alive. The other two were hit in the cross-fire. Dead.”
“Fucker almost shot me!” Emilio roars before popping off another round.
I check for targets. Nothing but silence and dead men. No more shots. Whoever set this up doesn’t care about their casualties, only that we bleed.
“Move,” I say. “We’re hitting the next house.”
My own voice sounds strange. Calm, even. Getting in, I drag the defector upright, shove him into the passenger seat, moving his handcuffs from the steering wheel to the door handle, before getting in the back.
Carmelo hisses, “Should I kill him?”
“Later,” I say. “Sandro go scope their safehouse.”
We take off a couple of minutes after Sandro, giving him and the twins a moment to search before Carmelo and I arrive with the defector.
Sandro gets on the radio, voice low. “The girl’s not here.”
I frown. “What?”
“Intel said the woman was supposed to be here. I don’t see her.”
That’s a variable I don’t like. “Check the perimeter. If she’s still breathing, find her.”
Sandro and Emilio break off to check the alley while Claudio takes watch.
I roll down the window, let the cold burn the stench from my nose. My mind is already moving three steps ahead—who knew about the raid, which rat needs gutting first, what the old man will say when I report about the ambush.
From my jacket, I pull a pack of smokes, light one, and draw until my lungs hurt. Carmelo drums his fingers on the steering wheel, restless. The defector moans, head lolling to the side.
I flick ash onto the sidewalk, watching each ember die.
From the comm, Sandro’s voice: “Found something. Back entrance, east side. Movement.”
Opening the door, I drop the smoke, snuff it with my heel, and rack the slide on my Sig. “Let’s finish.”
We slip from the vehicle, quiet, hugging the building’s shadow. The rain has slowed, but water pools in every crack, masking our footsteps. Around the corner, I spot Sandro crouched by a service door, pistol raised. He signals: two inside, visible.
I nod. Carmelo takes point, shoulder against the door. On my signal, he kicks it in, hinges shrieking. I sweep in after, muzzle first. The entry is a dim hallway—bare lightbulb, old tile, peeling paint. Someone runs up the far stairs, a pale blur.
We give chase, feet pounding loudly as we run. At the top, another door slams. Sandro gets there first, rips it open. The room is a storage closet, stacked with crates and rags. A woman cowers in the corner, hands raised. Blonde hair, ripped shirt, eyes wide but not crying.
She’s not who I expected.
Sandro grabs her by the arm, drags her upright. She spits in his face.
He laughs, wipes it away with the back of his hand. “She’s a fighter.”
I look her over. Strong posture, jaw clenched. “Name?”
She doesn’t answer.
I signal to Carmelo. He leans in, lifts her by the scruff like a cat. “You know why we’re here?”
She nods, defiant.
“Good,” I say. “You’re coming with us.”
Carmelo zipties her wrists, rough but not cruel. The girl spits blood onto the tile, turns her glare on me. I let it slide. Better that than a dead body to explain.
We haul her down the stairs, out into the freezing air. In the SUV, the defector’s eyes go wide when he sees her.
I slide into the front seat, Carmelo behind the wheel. The woman stares at me in the rearview, but I ignore her.
“Why her? Why did you betray us for her? She your wife?” I ask the defector. “She worth dying for?”
He shakes his head, trembling.
“Then why did you run?”
He whispers, “They said you’d kill her.”
I smile, slow. “You think I’m a monster?”
He says nothing.
I turn to the woman, meet her eyes. “You stay quiet, tell us what we need to know, and maybe we let you live.”
She doesn’t blink. “You don’t scare me.”
I believe her.
Carmelo hits the gas, peels into the night.
I lean back, close my eyes, and let the engine hum.
Whoever this woman is, was important enough for one of our grunts to feed the Castillo’s information on our warehouses.
It’s my job to find out exactly who the fuck she is.
The girl stands at the center of the room, arms tied up to a hook on the ceiling.
No tears, no trembling— a posture that says if you cut her loose she’d break someone’s jaw before the rope hit the floor.
Curly hair snarled, blood at the corner of her mouth, but her chin is high.
Her stare is the only thing that registers as a weapon.
I say nothing, shut the door behind me.
She tracks my every step. “Is this the part where you threaten me?”
“No,” I say. “You’re not worth the effort.”
She bares her teeth, a snarl. “You’re wasting your time, then. I don’t know anything.”
I nod toward the window. “That’s not what your boyfriend said.”
The anger twists, but doesn’t soften. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
I step closer, let her see my face. Not the right-hand. a man, tired and unblinking. “You’re here because you’re leverage. If you behave, this goes easy. If not, you die like the rest.”
She spits, blood and saliva on the tile. “You think that scares me?”
“No,” I say. “But I think it should.”
For a second, we breathe. Her chest rises and falls quick, but her eyes stay locked on mine. No flinch, no retreat. In another life, she could have been a soldier.
The door opens behind me. Renzo steps in, shrugs at the girl, then turns to me. “Aurelio wants her alive. Top priority.”
I look at him, then at the girl. “Why?”
He shrugs. “Castillo’s owe us. She’s the payment.”
I let that settle, watching her. She doesn’t seem surprised. Maybe she always knew. Maybe that’s why she’s so fucking angry.
I reach for my phone, dial the only number that matters. “Aurelio,” I say, once the call clicks through.
“Report,” comes the answer. Calm, measured.
“Defector and the woman are in custody.”
Aurelio’s voice is silk over steel. “Hold both. Do not engage further until I call.”
“Yes, sir.”
I pocket the phone. The girl’s mouth twists, like she wants to ask but won’t give me the satisfaction.
Turning and walking, I almost make it to the door when she says, “Good dog.”
“What the fuck did you say to me?” Rage coils in my gut.
“Good. Dog. Or would you prefer puppy?”
If it weren’t for my incredible self-control, my hands would already be tightening around her neck. “Shut the fuck up. I’ll be back soon.”
“Take your time, pup.”
The snarl that comes out of me echoes as I shut the door.
Fucking hell.