Chapter 49
Chapter Forty-Nine
Apollo
Even the best laid plans have room for error, and of course, Abramo’s plan is no exception. His father has always been a deeply paranoid man, and if I made as many enemies as he has over the years, I would be too.
People tend to hate sadists who ruin their lives for fun, but Romeo Giuliani has never much cared about his impact on others.
He enjoys power, and how it makes him feel to lord it over others.
He’s the reason that his men are able to hit their wives without consequence.
He’s the reason that Sienna’s mother was able to force her into surgeries she didn’t want or need.
He’s the reason that Abramo looks like a fucking angel in comparison to him.
And Abramo is no angel. Nico wouldn’t let me come alone due to that very fact. Abramo has a sadistic streak all his own, but one that doesn’t make me sick to my stomach. He’s a ruthless leader, and someone who doesn’t take disrespect from his men, but he doesn’t torture innocents for fun.
He also doesn’t seem to be up to date on his father’s security levels.
There was supposed to be fifteen guards in the house while his father slept, and now we’re finding out there’s closer to forty-five.
Forty-five against three are terrible odds, even if Abramo and I make most regular guards look like heavily armed toddlers in comparison.
Our training is unmatched, but the numbers still don’t look good.
“So much for sneaking in to poison him in his sleep,” Nico mocks, cracking his knuckles in the back of the car.
We’re a quarter mile away from Romeo’s mansion, hidden by the trees surrounding us.
The almost two-hour flight here was enough for me to stuff my anger away, and get into the mindset to kill.
It’s going to be so late when we return home that it’ll be almost early.
But something tells me Rayna will be up and waiting for me when I arrive.
Sighing, I look out the window into the pitch black forest and exhale.
I just want to be done with this favor, so that I can forget that tonight ever fucking happened.
When I look back toward the passenger seat, Abramo is still on his laptop, watching the camera’s in his father’s home with a frustrated frown.
He doesn’t bother to respond to my brother’s snark, too focused on recalculating his plan.
Nico decides to press further, needing a reaction from the man. “Why exactly do you have access to your father’s security cameras when he refuses to let you live in the same house as him?”
“He trusts me,” Abramo grits out. “I had to move out because he didn’t like when his company would attempt to warm my bed as well as his. The young ones do get tired of wrinkly old fucks eventually.”
Nico’s eyes darken. “How young?”
“Twenties,” Abramo answers with a huff. “He’s a monster, not the devil himself. I wouldn’t try to assassinate him quietly if he went that far. I would execute him openly, and anyone who protested it could join him.”
“Back to the topic at hand,” I say, nodding to the computer screen. “What are we doing about the beefed up security?”
Abramo’s original plan relied on weak points in the guard’s rounds. We would sneak him in, cover his back, and wait until the cyanide he injects his father with takes effect. It’s quick, mimics a heart attack, and by the time his body is examined, it’s disintegrated.
“I say we kill them all and call it a day.”
“Nico, I swear to fuck,” Abramo growls, swiveling around in his seat to glare at my bother.
“You can’t take a joke.” Nico huffs. “We kill them all and then stage a gas leak. The house blows up, and boom, bye bye evidence. Bye bye foul play. A tragic accident befalls Romeo Giuliani, leaving his throne empty and waiting for his irritating son.”
“That’s—” Abramo pauses, considering. “Not a horrible idea.”
“You’re okay with killing thirty-five of your men to get to your father?” I ask doubtfully.
“They aren’t my men, they’re his.”
“Don’t try to talk him out of it,” Nico says darkly. “Now that we’re talking about slaughtering a whole house of men, I haven’t had this much fun in ages.”
“It’ll be dangerous.”
“It’ll be worth it.”
I don’t bother to disagree. This isn’t my mission to run. This is a favor I’ve been trapped by honor into fulfilling.
“Let’s do this then.”
“Let’s go kill a Capo.”
Famous last words.
We descend on the mansion like shadows. Cloaked in black and sweeping through the surrounding area while strategically avoiding lights and cameras.
Each of us is wearing protective vests and a night vision monocular over one eye.
And of course, we’re packing heavy heat.
Two suppressor equipped guns each, one in hand, one strapped to our ankles, and all of our belts filled with magazines and knives to spare.
We’re as prepared as we can be, but this is still an operation built on a fucking whim, and something is bound to go wrong.
The first floor is cleared easily. Abramo, Nico, and I work together like a fine-oiled machine, moving in sync and covering each other’s backs.
Bodies drop all around us, not a single return shot being made and alerting the guards above.
Once the level is cleared, we make our way up, and things get more intense very quickly.
The second floor is heavily guarded, and our element of surprise is taken away within seconds. We’re taking oncoming fire as we take out the men one by one, and it isn’t long before my bad feeling is proven valid.
Nico is hit in the vest, the impact slamming him back into a wall. And before I can think, I act, moving in on the man who’s gunning for him. He sees me coming, throwing a knife straight at me, and I dodge on instinct. It slices through my side, missing the vest and drawing blood along my ribs.
“Motherfucker,” I grunt, lifting my aim straight for his head and firing three times. He drops like a sack of flour and I reach down to help Nico up.
He groans but comes to his feet easily, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
“You good?”
“Bruised as fuck, but fine,” he confirms. “You?”
Searing pain blazes through my shoulder, a loud bang coming from around the corner. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
Nico whips around and lights up the gunman who just hit my shoulder while I clutch it. My hand is smeared with blood in a matter of seconds.
“Not your lucky day, is it?” Nico winces, pulling a long cloth from his pocket. He wraps it around my wound tight and quickly. “Let’s finish this and get you the hell out of here.”
And that’s exactly what we do. Despite my injuries, and the bruises Nico is going to have under his vest, we come out relatively unscathed.
Abramo is almost shot too, but the worst he comes out with is a knee to the balls.
A small price to pay for putting your sadistic father into the ground. Or rather, into flames.
Ashes to ashes, and all that.
The plane ride home is fucking miserable, but faster. The private pilot manages to make the trip in just over an hour, rather than almost two. I’m pretty sure he flies it recklessly and illegally, but with a bullet in my shoulder and nothing but gauze keeping my side together, I’m not complaining.
“Doc is fifteen minutes away, but I’ll get Dad,” Nico says, rushing off the plane. We landed in the long field beside the main house, leaving me with only a small walk to get inside.
Every step fucking hurts, but soon enough, I’m through the side door near the kitchen, and starting to tend to myself.
Nico should have found our father already, but of course my wife is the first one to stumble upon me.
With alcohol dripping down my shoulder, and medical grade pliers sunk into the hole in my arm.
She should be sleeping; it’s fucking three in the morning.
“What the hell happened?” she screeches, eyes filled with worry as she notices all of the blood.
“Repayment,” I mutter, breathing hard. “For Abramo saving your life.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” She clutches her stomach, stepping closer though she looks like she may be sick.
“It means,” I grunt. “That since he didn’t allow his men to kill you and our unborn child in the name of revenge, I owed him a big fucking favor, Rayna. This is the result of that. Now leave me alone to deal with it, you’re good at that.”
She doesn’t react to the petty dig. “You need a doctor.”
“Doc isn’t close by,” I groan, using the angled pliers to dig deeper. Fuck, this hurts.
“I can’t just watch you fucking dissect yourself,” Rayna cries.
“So, don’t watch.”
“Apollo, please, you’re scaring me.”
“So. Don’t. Watch.”
“Oh thank God,” she exclaims, eyes whipping toward the door. “Please, talk some sense into him. He’s going to hurt himself.”
“There’s a bullet in my shoulder, micina,” I bite out. “Can’t get much more hurt than that.”
“Son,” Dad says with his worried voice. “How long have you been bleeding? When did this happen?”
“Hour and a half,” I rasp, feeling metal hitting metal in my shoulder. “Couldn’t exactly get treated in Chicago when their Capo’s house just exploded.”
Rayna sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh my God.”
Dad comes closer, scanning me with his eyes. “Nico says you’re cut too. Your side?”
“Yep,” I hiss. Sure that I’ve got the right angle and a strong grip, I tug the pliers out of my arm and nearly scream with pain and relief as the compressed bullet leaves my body.
“Oh, I’m going to be sick,” Rayna says, barely suppressing a gag as she finally looks away.
“Fuck.” I drop it onto the counter and shakily pour more rubbing alcohol onto my shoulder and wound. It’s not the ideal disinfectant, but it’ll fucking do in a pinch.
“Why don’t you go upstairs, honey?” Dad suggests softly. “I’ve got him from here. He’ll be okay.”
Looking like she might burst into tears, she nods at him, her lips trembling. Without another word of protest, she practically runs out of the room, clutching her stomach and holding a hand on her heart.