CHAPTER 26 MAURO #2
Rocco has nothing to defend himself with. At our uncle's insistence, all of my brothers trained in kendo. Rocco made it to second dan. Eliano and I reached third. Only Ennio earned sixth dan. Rocco knows he doesn't stand a chance against a drawn blade.
I narrow my eyes and press the tip of the katana lightly against the chest of his vest.
"You know what?" he almost whispers. "For years, I wanted to find out who my True Mate was and kill the bastard before any bond could form. It's the biggest weakness a mafioso can have. As we all can see…" he hisses and points at me, "…exhibit fucking A."
His eyes are squeezed nearly shut; he's still breathing heavily. A thin stream of blood runs from the wound on the back of his neck, trickling down onto his vest and slowly soaking into the fabric.
Then…
…my phone starts ringing.
Fuck.
I have to answer it. It could be—
My eyes land on the screen for a fraction of a second, long enough to read that…
‘Rocco’ is calling me!
What the f—
But my mad brother has been waiting for exactly that.
I'm certain he’s about to dive for the gun, but instead he does the last thing I expect of him.
Rocco runs!
Since we're standing close to the door, he spins, yanks it open, and bolts outside.
I swing the katana, but the blade's tip strikes the doorframe, missing him by a hair.
Rocco leaps off the small steps in front of the cabin and takes off toward his car in long strides.
Furious, I throw the katana aside. My other weapon is still holstered at my waist. I yank it free in a rush and fire…
Rocco is already at his car. He ducks at the last second, but the bullet still slams into his back.
I see his body jolt and stagger, yet somehow he forces himself onward and throws himself into the driver's seat.
I fire several more rounds, but the windows are armored. Spiderwebs of cracks spread across the glass, yet they hold.
Rocco starts the engine and tears away with a screech of tires, but I'm not about to let him disappear.
I dive into my own vehicle and go after him.
I've got a slight advantage. Mine is a Jeep Wrangler, while he's driving a Mercedes-AMG G.
The G-Class handles rough terrain surprisingly well and has a monstrous engine, but my Wrangler is narrower, more agile, and far better suited to these tight forest trails and deep ruts.
My tires grip the mud more effectively, while his Mercedes has the edge in raw power and pulls away faster whenever the road straightens.
So I stay on him, and it turns into a brutal back-and-forth. On the straight stretches he opens the gap, but every time the trail twists through the trees, I'm right back on his bumper.
The roar of our engines shreds the silence of the forest. I grit my teeth, wishing I possessed the same connection to the woods that my uncle Renato has, and that Silvio still carries within him.
But I'm too young; my bond with the forest isn't complete yet, so I can't command the trees to bend their branches across the road and stop Rocco.
That leaves me with a far more conventional solution.
As we barrel toward a curve, I lean out the window and fire at the Mercedes' rear tire.
The SUV wobbles as it enters the turn, but Rocco wrestles it back under control almost instantly. The tire isn't shredded, only punctured, which means this chase is far from over.
Ahead of us, the trail narrows into a stretch carved by deep ruts.
I immediately see Rocco struggling.
He floors the accelerator, relying on the V8 and four-wheel drive. Mud explodes behind the tires as the electronics fight desperately for traction.
I silently beg for him to get stuck, but the brute force of that engine drags the SUV through the worst of it.
Cursing under my breath, I follow. My Jeep glides through the section much more easily, putting me almost on top of him again, but then I realize we only have a few hundred yards left.
Rocco has slowed noticeably now. The flat tire is finally catching up with him.
At the end of the trail lies the junction where it meets the hard-packed gravel road, the same one Jared originally used to reach my cabin. From there the road splits into three directions, one of them branching onto another damp forest track that leads to the rear entrance of Renato's estate.
I'm almost close enough to ram Rocco's bumper when I suddenly spot two black Cadillacs parked on the small shoulder beside the gravel road.
So he didn't come alone after all.
They're obviously not built for these muddy forest trails, but they'll have no trouble on gravel. The realization is immediate; I can't keep chasing him out there. My Jeep doesn't have armored windows. They'd turn me into Swiss cheese before I got within range.
I yank the wheel hard and veer onto the forest road leading toward the back of Renato's estate, hoping they won’t follow. But I have to find out what's happening there and intervene if I still can.
I push the Jeep as hard as it'll go, tearing through the forest like a madman.
But as I get closer, I realize it isn't going to be that simple.
Rocco planned this far too well.
The place where the forest opens onto the driveway leading to Renato's estate is blocked by two black SUVs.
My heart sinks.
Looks like I'll have to come up with Plan D. and I'll have to do it fast.