Chapter 3 - Trapped in the Crossfire—The Mafia Boss Learns the Terrifying Truth"They're coming through the service corridor," Sophia said, her voice dropping into a register of deadly calm. She didn't look at Nicolo; her entire focus was locked on the narrow doorway leading to the kitchens.
"That door is dead-bolted from the inside," Nicolo said, pushing himself up to his feet, adrenaline overriding his disbelief. "Only Marco and I have the keys."
"Dead bolts don't mean a damn thing when someone brought a thermal breach charge," she replied, her fingers flying across the slide of her Sig Sauer to rack a fresh round. "Get behind the walk-in cooler. It's lined with lead and reinforced steel. It's the only place in this building that will stop a high-velocity rifle round."
"I don't hide behind women," Nicolo snapped, pride flaring despite the bodies cooling on the floor around them.
Sophia turned her head, and her dark eyes locked onto his with a ferocity that made the hardened mafia boss take half a step back. "Listen to me, you arrogant idiot. You think you're a kingpin because you run half of Brooklyn, but you're playing checkers in a chess game you don't even know exists. Those men out there aren't hitmen sent by a rival family. They're cleaners from the federal directorate. They aren't here to negotiate or take your territory. They're here to erase everyone in this building—including you, me, and whoever is currently texting your phone."
Nicolo's phone buzzed in his hand. He looked down at the screen.
Where are you? — Marco.
A cold dread pooled in Nicolo's stomach. Marco was supposed to be twenty minutes away. But Marco hadn't called; he had texted. Just like he had texted earlier to stall him.
"No," Nicolo whispered, shaking his head. "Marco is my brother. He wouldn't—"
"Who do you think gave them your schedule?" Sophia's voice cut through his denial like a razor. "Who do you think knew you sat in that exact corner every Thursday at three? Who do you think authorized the security patrol to vanish twenty minutes before those vans rolled up?"
The kitchen door exploded inward in a brilliant flash of white-hot light and concussive sound.
The blast wave shattered the remaining glassware behind the counter, sending a glittering rain of shards across the floor. Through the billowing smoke, three more figures in tactical gear pushed through the ruined doorway, weapons raised, sweeping the room.
"Target sighted!" one of them shouted over the ringing in their ears. "Eliminate everyone!"
Sophia didn't hesitate. She rolled behind the heavy marble counter just as a hail of submachine gun fire splintered the wood inches above her head. Wood chips and plaster rained down on her hair, but she didn't flinch.
She leaned out, firing with one hand while steadying her wrist with the other.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Two operators dropped, their tactical vests smoking, but the third managed to dive behind a structural concrete pillar, returning fire with suppressive bursts that kept Sophia pinned.
"Bandi!" she shouted over the deafening din of gunfire. "The cooler! Now!"
May you like
Nicolo finally moved. He lunged across the blood-slicked floor, diving behind the heavy steel door of the walk-in refrigerator and slamming it shut just as a burst of automatic fire chewed up the doorframe. He spun the heavy locking wheel, sealing himself inside the freezing darkness, his chest heaving as he tried to process the nightmare unfolding outside.
Through the small wire-reinforced window of the cooler door, Nicolo watched in horror as Sophia stood her ground alone against the remaining operatives.
Related Stories
