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Lorenzo gave a cold, knowing smile. "Don't worry. I already know who's leaking information."
Enzo was stunned when Lorenzo revealed that he already knew who the spy was. Before he could ask who it was, Lorenzo spoke first.
"Move out," Lorenzo ordered, his tone final. Dominic and the chosen men followed him out of the underground base, their footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. Waiting for them outside was a line of black SUVs under the pale glow of the streetlights.
Minutes later, they arrived at a secluded airstrip. A private jet stood ready, engines humming like a beast waiting to be unleashed. Lorenzo boarded first, followed by Dominic and the others.
Inside the jet, the men talked in low, eager voices, their faces glowing with excitement rather than fear. To them, danger was a part of life—death, a risk they'd long accepted.
At the front cabin, Dominic sat beside Lorenzo. Seeing the frown on Lorenzo's face, he immediately understood the reason. Lorenzo loved peace and quiet and despised noisy, chaotic places — the chatter from the boys and girls was clearly irritating him.
Dominic's voice cut through the noise, cold and sharp. "Silence, and gather your strength. We'll soon arrive in Brooklyn. If anyone dares to mess up, don't blame me or the boss for your punishment."
The effect was instant. The noise vanished, leaving only a heavy silence in the cabin.
Only one man, seated a few rows ahead, couldn't keep still. His name was Angelo—one of the newer recruits. His gaze kept drifting toward Lorenzo, who sat calmly at the front of the jet, his dragon mask glinting faintly under the cabin lights.
It wasn't just curiosity—it was something deeper, something that couldn't be explained.
One of the men beside him leaned closer and whispered, "Angelo, why do you keep staring at the boss like that? You trying to get yourself killed?"
Angelo gave a faint smirk. "I'm just curious. The girls in the crew can't stop talking about him. You could say I'm curious about the face behind the mask. Is he really that handsome?"
"Well," Federico said with a knowing grin, lowering his voice, "I heard the boss is insanely handsome. But only the higher ranks—those who've been with him for two or three years—have actually seen his face.
The rest of us? We're not allowed to until we've proven ourselves or done something big enough to earn a promotion." Angelo raised a brow. "You seem to know a lot, Federico."
"Of course." Federico smirked. "I hear it from the girls close to Paola. They gossip about him all the time."
Angelo leaned back, a flicker of envy crossing his face. "Hmm… maybe I should start getting along with them too."
Federico chuckled quietly. "You should. Talk to the right girls and you'll hear all kinds of secrets."
Angelo's smile deepened—but in his eyes, a dangerous curiosity gleamed.
After nearly two hours in the air, the private jet finally landed in Brooklyn. The aircraft touched down on a secluded strip, not far from the docks where The Obsidian Brotherhood's shipment was expected to arrive.
Lorenzo opened his eyes slowly, the faint glint of calculation flickering within them. Dominic, sensing his boss was awake, immediately stood up from his seat.
"Everyone who hasn't changed yet, get to it," Dominic ordered in a deep voice. "From now on, you're no longer members of our family—you're the Shadow Wolves. Remember that."
His tone carried a hint of mockery, and several of the younger crew members chuckled under their breath.
"Yes, Second Boss. We'll make sure to act the part," one of them said, trying to sound bold.
But the moment Lorenzo's cold gaze swept over them, the laughter died as if strangled. His stare alone was enough to silence the entire cabin. Without saying a word, he rose from his seat and walked toward the back of the jet to change.
No one dared to speak after that. They all hurried to prepare, afraid of keeping the boss waiting. Minutes later, the group exited the private jet, dressed entirely in black.
The men wore fitted black shirts, leather jackets, and combat boots, their faces half-hidden behind black masks. The women were dressed in cropped tops, black jackets, and leather pants, exuding both danger and allure.
Lorenzo adjusted his gloves and scanned the team with a detached expression. "Let's move," he said coldly.
Sophia, one of Paola's friends, quickly handed Lorenzo his helmet, stealing a shy glance at him.
"Let's go," Lorenzo said coldly.
The roar of his motorcycle echoed through the night as he sped off, Dominic following right behind him. The rest of the crew scrambled onto their bikes, afraid to fall behind.
Engines flared, tires screeched, and soon they were all cutting through the dark streets like shadows on the hunt.
When they arrived at the warehouse marked by Lorenzo's intel, Lorenzo stopped his motorcycle and got off, his men following suit. They exchanged quick, silent nods before stepping inside.
The air inside was thick with the scent of oil and metal. At the far end of the warehouse stood ten men, all dressed in red and white shirts, boots, and masks. Their insignias were slightly different, marking them as part of another group.
They were talking among themselves when one of them spotted Lorenzo's team approaching and whispered something to the man who appeared to be their leader. The leader turned sharply, his tone rough and suspicious.
"You must be the ones from the Shadow Wolves the boss said would arrive later," he said, stepping closer. "But why are there so many of you? There were supposed to be only ten.
Have you prepared everything? Or didn't our boss warn you that the Ricci family might try to hijack our shipment? He told us to stay alert."
His cold eyes swept over Lorenzo and his men, tension thickening the air between the two sides.
The air was thick with tension. Hearing what the leader said, Lorenzo's sharp eyes flicked toward Dominic. Without a word, Dominic stepped forward, his tone calm yet edged with authority.
"Our boss gave us instructions," he said evenly. "Just as yours did."
The leader's eyes narrowed, suspicion written all over his face. He tilted his head slightly. "Then tell me your code name," he demanded, his hand subtly motioning for his men to stay alert.
Dominic hesitated for a brief second, then said coldly, "Dominic."
At once, the men of the Obsidian Brotherhood exchanged wary glances. One of them — a man named Andrew — moved faster than anyone could react. In a blur of motion, he lunged forward, his blade flashing as he aimed straight for Dominic's throat.
Steel flashed. Chaos erupted.
The warehouse exploded into a violent storm of movement. Lorenzo moved like a phantom, swift and precise. In one fluid motion, he drew a dagger from his boot, its silver blade catching the dim light as if alive.
A man from the Obsidian Brotherhood charged at him with a roar, throwing a heavy punch. Lorenzo's blade sliced through the air, slashing across the man's forearm before he could land the blow.
A scream tore through the warehouse. Without hesitation, Lorenzo spun, dodging another strike, and drove the dagger into the man's neck.
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