28. Gianni
Chapter 28
Gianni
The numbers blur before my eyes as I pore over the ledgers. My head throbs, a dull ache that's been my constant companion all morning after the party last night.
I lose focus when the door bursts open. Marco and Luigi stumble in, grins splitting their faces.
"Boss! We found him!" Marco pants, his chest heaving.
My pen clatters to the desk. There’s only one him they could be talking about with such enthusiasm. "Greco?"
Luigi nods, his eyes gleaming. "We got a solid lead on his hideout. It's an old warehouse on the outskirts of town. We put trackers on his wife and kids, and they led us right to them."
A surge of adrenaline courses through my veins, chasing away the fatigue. At last. After weeks of dead ends and false leads, we've finally cornered that bastard. I can almost taste the sweet nectar of revenge on my tongue.
"Well done, boys," I say, rising from my chair. My mind races, piecing together a plan. "Now, listen carefully. We need to move fast before he gets wind of this."
I stride to the map on the wall, my fingers tracing the streets leading to Greco's hideout. "Marco, I want you to take a team and approach from the east. There's an abandoned building there – perfect vantage point for our snipers."
Marco nods, his expression focused. "Got it, boss."
"Luigi, you'll lead the ground assault. But be careful – Greco's paranoid. He'll have traps set up." I pause, considering our options. "Use the sewers. They'll lead you right under the warehouse. Catch them off guard."
As I outline the rest of the plan, I feel a familiar calm settling over me. This is what I was born for – the thrill of the hunt. Greco thinks he's safe in his little fortress, but he's about to learn why they call me The Raven.
"Any questions?" I ask, my gaze boring into each of my men.
They shake their heads, determination etched on their faces.
"Good. We move in an hour. Make sure everyone's armed and ready." I turn back to my desk, reaching for my gun. "It's time we remind Greco why you don't fuck with the Montagna family."
I holster my gun and straighten my tie, impatient to get going. But before I join my men, there's one more thing I need to do.
"Genoveva," I call out, striding into our private quarters. She's there, a vision in deep burgundy, her hazel eyes locking onto mine instantly.
"Gianni," she says, her voice soft as chimes. "What's happening?"
I take her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "We've found Greco. I'm heading out with the men to deal with him."
Her fingers tighten around mine, her eyes narrowing slightly. I watch as understanding dawns on her face, her perceptiveness reading my intentions like an open book.
"You're going to kill him yourself," she states, not a question.
I nod, my jaw clenching. "He needs to pay for what he did to you."
Genoveva's free hand cups my cheek, her touch gentle but insistent. "Gianni, please. Let your men handle this. It's too dangerous for you to go."
I feel my resolve hardening. "I can't just sit back and—"
"You're all I have," she interrupts, her voice firmer. "Your life isn't just your own anymore. Think of me. If you die…that would be the end of us."
The tension between us crackles like electricity. I want to argue, to make her understand why I need to do this myself. But the fear in her eyes, carefully hidden behind her composed exterior, gives me pause.
"Genoveva, I—"
"Please," she whispers, her fingers tracing the scar on my face. "I can't lose you again."
I hesitate, my heart pounding as I stare into Genoveva's pleading eyes. The thirst for vengeance burns in my veins, urging me to go, to feel Greco's life slip away beneath my hands. But Genoveva's touch anchors me and reminds me of what she’s been through.
Perhaps she needs some more time to feel safe before she allows me back into my old ways.
"I've waited so long for this," I murmur, my voice rough with conflicting emotions. "To make him pay, to look him in the eye as he realizes it's over."
Genoveva's thumb brushes my cheek. "I know, amore. But at what cost?"
I close my eyes, wrestling with the decision. Images flash in my mind: Genoveva’s death, Greco’s escape, bargaining with Hades, and losing a part of my soul.
"Dammit," I growl, reaching for the walkie-talkie at my belt. The plastic feels cold and unforgiving in my grip. I bring it to my lips; my jaw clenched so tight it aches. "Gentlemen, proceed with the plan. I... I won't be joining you."
"Boss?" Marco's voice crackles through the speaker, confusion evident.
"You heard me," I snap, frustration seeping into my tone. "Take him down, but bring him to me alive. I want to look that bastard in the eye before he dies."
I lower the walkie-talkie, my shoulders sagging with a mix of relief and disappointment. Genoveva's arms encircle me, her forehead resting against my chest.
"Thank you," she whispers, her breath warm against my skin.
I wrap my arms around her, burying my face in her hair. "You're the only one who could've stopped me, you know that?"
She looks up at me, a small smile playing on her lips. "I know. That's why I had to try."
The dim glow of a dozen screens bathes our study in an eerie blue light. I lean forward, eyes darting from one monitor to the next, each displaying a different angle of the assault on Greco's compound.
Genoveva sits beside me, her face a mask of concentration, fingers flying over a keyboard as she coordinates our men's movements.
"They've breached the outer perimeter," I mutter, my voice low and tense.
Genoveva nods, her hazel eyes reflecting the chaos unfolding before us. "Salvatore's team is moving towards the east wing. No sign of Greco yet."
I grunt in acknowledgment, my fingers drumming an impatient rhythm on the armrest.
"Wait," Genoveva's voice cuts through my brooding. "Something's wrong. The guards... they're too organized."
I lean in closer, squinting at the screen. She's right. Greco's men are moving with a precision that speaks of preparation. My stomach drops as the realization hits.
"It's a trap," I growl, slamming my fist on the desk. "That snake knew we were coming!"
Genoveva's fingers fly across the keyboard, her voice urgent as she relays warnings to our men. But it's too late. On the largest screen, I watch in horror as our assault team is surrounded, outgunned and outmaneuvered.
My hands clench into fists, nails biting into my palms. "I should be there," I snarl, frustration and helplessness gnawing at my gut like a rabid dog. "If I was leading them-"
"You'd be walking into the same trap," Genoveva interrupts, her tone sharp but her eyes soft with understanding.
I turn away, unable to watch as my carefully laid plans crumble. The bitter taste of failure floods my mouth, and I fight the urge to put my fist through one of the screens. Months of waiting and planning, all for nothing. And worse, I've sent my men into the lion's den.
"Gianni," Genoveva's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. "We need to focus on getting them out. There will be other chances to get Greco."
I take a deep breath, forcing the rage down. She's right, of course. But the thought of Greco slipping through my fingers again... it's almost more than I can bear.
“Gianni, our men could die!” she screams, louder now.
“Fuck,” I roar, connecting to the central comms. “Retreat,” I command each team. “Retreat now. Abandon the plan.”
Once we’re finished, Genoveva moves closer, her presence a balm to my frayed nerves. Her hand finds my arm, her touch gentle and grounding.
"We did everything we could, Gianni," she murmurs, her voice like silk against my raw emotions. "Our men are trained for this. Trust them."
I exhale slowly, the tension in my shoulders easing a fraction. "I know. It's just-"
"You hate not being in control," she finishes, a wry smile playing on her lips.
"You know me too well, cara mia."
Her fingers trace soothing circles on my arm. "Someone has to."
The screens continue to flicker, but it offers nothing of use.
"Come," she says softly, tugging gently at my arm. "There's nothing more we can do here tonight."
I hesitate, glancing back at the failure unfolding on the screens. "But-"
"No buts," she insists, her voice firmer now. "You need rest. Clear eyes for tomorrow's fight."
I nod, allowing her to guide me away from the command center. As we move through the darkened house, I'm acutely aware of her hand in mine, the unspoken comfort in her touch. We've known each other since childhood, yet moments like these still catch me off guard – the easy intimacy, the way she reads me like an open book.
"Thank you," I murmur as we reach the stairs. "For keeping me grounded."
Genoveva's smile is soft in the dim light. "Always, mio cuore. Always."
In our bedroom, Genoveva's arms encircle me, her warmth seeping into my bones. The weight of the day presses down, but here, in this sanctuary, I find a moment of peace—her heartbeat thrums against my chest, a steady rhythm anchoring me to the present.
"You're still tense," she murmurs, her fingers working at the knots in my shoulders.
I exhale, letting some of the tension bleed out. "Can't help it. So much could've gone wrong today."
"But it didn't," Genoveva reminds me, her voice soft yet firm. "We're here. We're safe."
I nod, burying my face in her hair and inhaling the familiar scent of jasmine. "You're right. As always."
She chuckles, the sound vibrating through me. "Remember that next time you want to rush headlong into danger."
"No promises," I murmur, a smile tugging at my lips despite everything.
We lapse into silence, the quiet broken only by our synchronized breathing. My eyelids grow heavy, the adrenaline of the day finally ebbing away.
Just as sleep begins to claim me, a sharp crack shatters the stillness. My eyes fly open, body tensing. Another crack follows, unmistakable this time – gunshots.