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A scream tore through the warehouse. Without hesitation, Lorenzo spun, dodging another strike, and drove the dagger into the man's neck.
Blood sprayed, and the body collapsed to the floor with a dull thud. Another attacker charged, but Lorenzo ducked, avoiding the blow by inches. His cold eyes never wavered.
Then—BANG! A gunshot cracked through the chaos. The capo of the Obsidian Brotherhood fired into the air, his shout cutting through the noise.
"Enough!" he roared. "Who the hell are you people? You dare step into the Obsidian Brotherhood's territory and pretend to be from the Shadow Wolves?"
The room fell silent, broken only by the sound of ragged breathing and the steady drip of blood.
Five of the Obsidian Brotherhood men were already dead, their bodies sprawled across the bloodstained floor. Only four remained.
One of the survivors, trembling and desperate, snatched a walkie-talkie from his pocket and shouted, "We need backup! We're under attack!"
Before he could say another word, Lorenzo's dagger flashed through the air. The blade struck the man square in the forehead. He collapsed instantly, the walkie-talkie clattering beside his lifeless body.
The capo's eyes widened in fury. He raised his gun and opened fire, his remaining three men following suit.
"Take cover!" Dominic barked, diving behind a stack of steel crates. Bullets tore through the air, sparks flying as they struck metal. Lorenzo rolled to the side and ducked behind a container, drawing his gun in one swift motion. He returned fire, each shot precise and deadly.
The deafening exchange of gunfire echoed through the warehouse like thunder. The stench of gunpowder filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood.
"Finally, the barrage ceased. Silence crept back into the warehouse, broken only by the faint clinking of spent casings hitting the floor."
Lorenzo stepped out from behind the container, his breathing steady and his gaze sharp beneath the mask. Dominic and the others emerged one by one, checking their weapons as they scanned the area.
It was over. The last of the Obsidian Brotherhood men lay dead on the cold concrete floor.
The warehouse fell into a grim silence. Ten members of the Obsidian Brotherhood, including their capo, lay dead; two of Lorenzo's men had been killed, and several others were bleeding or bruised.
Dominic stepped up to Lorenzo, his grin gone—replaced by a hard, businesslike expression. "We lost two, and five are injured. How are you?" he asked.
"I'm fine," Lorenzo said without flinching. His voice was flat, detached. "Get the bodies. We'll bring them back and compensate their families." He paused, his sharp gaze sweeping over the wounded.
"The injured can't continue. Send them to the jet—the doctor will treat them there. Two fit men will carry the dead."
He pointed to the rest of the crew. "Split into two groups. Fifteen of you, follow me and check if the coke is here. The other fifteen go with Dominic—scout the perimeter and hold the line. If their backup shows up, we'll know. Move fast."
Dominic nodded and barked the orders. The men scrambled to obey, their movements swift and disciplined—the chaos of the shootout replaced by cold, military precision.
Lorenzo's gaze hardened. "Clean up the bodies. Hide them. We leave no trace." His tone left no room for argument.
Pietro and the others immediately began cleaning up the bodies. "Okay, make it quick," Lorenzo ordered, his voice low but firm.
Once the corpses were hidden and the blood wiped away, Lorenzo's men divided into two groups — fifteen under his command and the other fifteen under Dominic's. The warehouse fell into a tense silence as they waited in the shadows.
Twenty minutes later, the rumble of engines echoed outside. Five massive trailers rolled into the warehouse and came to a stop. Around forty men, all dressed in red and white with masks concealing their faces, jumped out and began unloading crates.
"Move it. Check everything — make sure it's the right stuff, then hide it so the police can't find it if we run into them," the man who seemed to be their leader barked, his tone cold and sharp.
"And where the hell are the ten men who were supposed to be here? Has anyone seen Robert or the others? If they're slacking again, drag them here. The boss will deal with them personally when we return."
"Yes, Second Boss Giulio!" the men of the Obsidian Brotherhood Mafia Family replied in unison, their voices echoing through the vast warehouse.
The Obsidian Brotherhood men spread out, loading crates of cocaine into the trucks after concealing the drugs inside dolls, while a few others went to search for Robert and his missing team.
"Hurry up!" shouted Second Boss Giulio, his cold voice echoing through the warehouse. "The next truck will arrive any minute!"
From the far end of the warehouse, hidden behind a stack of shipping containers, Lorenzo crouched low with fifteen of his men. His sharp eyes scanned the movements ahead before he turned to Rafael, Antonio, and the others waiting behind him.
He silently raised his hand, signaling them to move. Then, in one fluid motion, he pulled the gun from his waist. His men followed his lead—muzzles flashing faintly under the dim lights as they aimed toward their targets.
The silence shattered in an instant. The sound of rapid gunfire tore through the warehouse. "Take cover!" Giulio roared, ducking behind a truck as bullets sparked off metal. His men quickly drew their weapons, firing back from behind the containers and crates.
Meanwhile, Dominic, who had been hiding on the opposite side with his own squad, pressed his EarPod and growled, "Pietro, Marco, Angelo—move in. Cover from the left."
At his command, his team burst out from their hiding spot, unleashing a fresh wave of bullets that echoed across the vast warehouse.
Just as the gunfight reached its peak, the deep roar of an engine filled the air—another truck screeched into the warehouse, its headlights cutting through the haze of gun smoke.
Second Boss Giulio, still firing his gun, quickly grabbed the walkie-talkie from his pocket and barked, "We're under attack! Bring in more reinforcements—now!"
The men inside the trucks heard his order and immediately poured out, raising their weapons and joining the gunfight. The warehouse erupted into chaos once more—the sharp sound of gunfire bouncing off the steel walls like thunder.
Lorenzo ducked behind a container as bullets flew past his head. His cold eyes flicked toward Rafael and Antonio beside him. "Rafael, Antonio—take five men and move that truck out of here. Get it to the private jet, now!"
Rafael's eyes widened in shock. "But, Boss, that'll leave you with only five people here!" he protested, worry tightening his voice. He wasn't wrong. Out of their original fifteen men, two were already dead—leaving thirteen.
If he took Antonio and five others, Lorenzo would be left with only five to hold the line. Even with Dominic's squad of fifteen on the other flank, Rafael didn't know how many of them were still standing or wounded.
His gut twisted uneasily. This mission's turning into a bloodbath…
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