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…
Lorenzo's cold green eyes locked on Rafael. "Hurry — take five and get that truck to the jet," he ordered, his voice flat and uncompromising. "Do you think I can't handle a few men?
Follow my orders: move the truck the Obsidian Brotherhood loaded with cocaine before their reinforcements arrive. We can't let that shipment fall into their hands."
Rafael gritted his teeth and nodded. "Yes, Boss." He and Antonio gathered five men, firing short bursts of cover shots before sprinting toward the nearest truck under the rain of bullets.
Lorenzo turned to the remaining five. His voice dropped, deep and firm, carrying that sharp Italian accent that made his men stand straighter. "Listen carefully. We either succeed now—or die here.
You three, move toward the second truck. Use it as cover and back up Rafael when he signals. The rest of you, follow me to the first truck." "Yes, Boss," they answered in unison.
With that, they split into two groups, moving swiftly and silently through the shadows. Lorenzo led his two men forward,
Lorenzo moved forward, his steps steady and soundless. Any enemy unfortunate enough to cross his path was gunned down in an instant. Soon, he and the two girls following behind him crouched beside one of the trucks, the cold steel pressing against their backs.
He checked his gun—empty. Without hesitation, he began reloading, movements quick and practiced. His black mask was smeared with blood—mostly from the men he had killed.
"Boss, are you injured?" one of the girls asked shakily, glancing at the bloodstains on Lorenzo's black clothes.
Lorenzo didn't look up. His voice remained calm and detached. "No. Focus. You two," he said, pointing to the two girls behind him, "slide under the truck. Attack them from below—catch them off guard."
"Yes, Boss!" the two female members responded quickly. Without hesitation, they dropped to the ground, crawling beneath the truck with their guns ready.
Across the warehouse, Dominic's group was still holding their ground, exchanging fierce gunfire with the Obsidian Brotherhood's men. Just as Dominic turned to reload, a sudden burst of bullets came from behind him—aimed at his own team.
His eyes narrowed. A traitor?
Dominic spun around instantly and saw Angelo, one of their own, firing wildly at his teammates. Two men fell before the rest dove for cover.
"Angelo, you bastard!" Dominic snarled and raised his gun. Without hesitation, he fired. One shot hit Angelo's hand, making the gun fly from his grasp.
Dominic charged forward, kicking the fallen weapon toward one of his men before grabbing Angelo's wrist and twisting it brutally. The Angelo screamed in pain, his face contorting as Dominic's grip tightened.
The rest of the team surrounded them, eyes filled with fury and disbelief. None of them had expected Angelo—the quiet, friendly man who trained beside them for years—to be the spy within their ranks.
"After all this time…" one of the men muttered bitterly, glaring at him. "You were the snake hiding among us." No one had expected Angelo's betrayal.
Dominic's cold expression didn't change. He shoved Angelo to the ground and pointed his gun at him. "Talk. Who sent you?"
Pietro's eyes burned red behind his mask, the pain in his expression hidden only by the layer of black cloth. "Angelo… why did you do it?"
he demanded, striding forward before anyone could stop him. His fist slammed into Angelo's face, snapping his head to the side.
"Enough!" Dominic barked coldly, stepping in before Pietro could strike again. "Don't forget why we're here. We'll deal with him after the mission." His tone carried a weight of authority that silenced everyone instantly.
Pietro clenched his fists, the rage in his chest barely contained. After a tense pause, he tossed Dominic a pair of cuffs. Dominic grabbed Angelo, slammed him against the wall, and twisted his arm behind his back in one swift motion.
The metal cuffs clicked shut around his wrists, and Dominic yanked him down, chaining him to a rusted iron pipe along the warehouse wall.
"I don't know why you betrayed your own family," Dominic said, his voice low and lethal, "but the boss won't be as merciful as me when he deals with you."
He left three men behind to guard Angelo, then turned to lead the others back into the chaos.
By the time the last gunshot faded, the floor was littered with bodies. Lorenzo had won—but at a heavy cost. Several of his men were dead, and many others lay wounded.
Dominic exhaled sharply, his jaw clenched as he stepped closer to Lorenzo and spoke in a low voice. "Boss… I found the traitor. It's Angelo," Dominic said.
Lorenzo nodded once, a ruthless curve at the corner of his mouth. "Take him to the jet. Make sure he doesn't kill himself—Dom, I'll deal with him later."
He turned his attention to the remaining cargo. "Antonio and Rafael have already taken some of the coke to the jet. We'll meet them there. Everyone else, gather whatever crates are intact. We're taking this back."
He glanced up, the smirk beneath his mask colder than the night air. "Call the cleanup crew. Make this place look like nothing happened. Maybe we'll leave a little gift for the Brooklyn police."
Dominic nodded. "Alright then, I'll handle it." He walked toward the rest of the crew and ordered them to quickly load the remaining coke while calling in the cleaning team.
By the time they finished loading the second truck, the cleaning crew Dominic had summoned finally arrived. It was already four in the morning.
Five people—two women and three men—stepped into the warehouse and approached Lorenzo and Dominic. Stopping in front of them, they saluted and greeted in unison, "Saluto, Capo. Saluto, Secondo Capo Dominic."
Lorenzo's gaze was cold, his voice low and commanding. "Clean the scene—before the police show up."
"Yes, boss," the cleaning crew chorused, moving with efficient, practiced motions.
Lorenzo watched them for a moment, then added quietly, "And make sure the bodies are placed where the police will find them."
"Yes, boss," the five crew members replied in unison. They couldn't help but glance at Lorenzo with a mix of awe and fear. Only their boss would dare to taunt the police—sending them the bodies of the men they'd killed just to mock them.
That's our boss, they thought silently, admiration flickering in their eyes.