Married to the mafia King

As everyone was slipping on their vests, I spoke in a low voice. “Giorgio, Flavio, and Remy stay with the cars and keep them running. Everybody else is going up.

“Even if there’s an elevator, we’re using the stairs. The front door’s probably locked, so Marco’s going to pick it. Then he’ll stick with me all the way to the top floor in case we need to pick that lock, too. Lars, you got some instructions?”

Years before he’d met Dario in an Italian prison, Lars had been in special ops with the Swedish military. He was the only one of us who had specifically trained for just this sort of operation.

“We’ll go up single-file,” Lars said quietly. “The last two guys will be Lorenzo and Rocco. They’ll stay on the ground floor and guard our rear. The next-to-the-last guys are Emilio and Tommaso. You stay on the second-floor landing and make sure we don’t get surprised just in case the Agrellas rented the second floor, too. Everybody else follows me, Adriano, and Massimo up to the top.

“If you hear gunfire, DO NOT SHOOT. You ONLY fire your gun if you can confirm your target. If everybody gets freaked out and starts shooting, we’ll end up killing each other. I repeat: do not shoot unless you can confirm it’s the enemy and you have him dead to rights. Now line up.”

The men all assembled into a line. Everyone looked grim.

I took the front position with Marco next to me. He was the best lockpick we had, which I’m sure he was regretting right about now.

“I should go first,” Lars whispered to me.

“I’m the one who decided to do this, so I’m the one who goes first,” I replied.

“I’m trained for this you’re not.”

“Then make sure you got my back.”

Lars nodded reluctantly. He looked at the men to check they were ready, then whispered, “Go time.”

We were on our way.

We walked swiftly down the alleyway, keeping the shotguns low to our sides.

I wasn’t worried about innocent bystanders getting in the way. This wasn’t the kind of neighborhood where people hung out after dark unless they were up to no good

And anybody up to no good would bolt as soon as they saw us coming.

You see 14 guys with guns walking down the street in Italy after dark, there’s only two things they can be: the cops or the Cosa Nostra. Either way, anybody who lived around here would run the opposite direction.

I kept my eyes open for any Agrella lookouts.

I didn’t see anyone.

Didn’t see any security cameras, either. They would have stood out like sore thumbs against the crumbling beige stucco of the building.

There were probably cameras on the inside, though.

The Agrellas would know we were coming but there was no way to avoid it. If we cut the power, that would clue them off, too.

I prayed to the Virgin that whoever was watching the security feeds was drunk or taking a nap.

The street was residential and deserted. There was traffic on the next block, but not in front of the building.

We reached the front door, which was a metal grate on hinges.

Marco got down on one knee, worked his magic, and the door was open in ten seconds flat.

I went in first. Marco came in behind me, followed by Lars and Massimo, then all the other guys.

The lobby was basically just a small alcove with some metal mailboxes bolted to a wall. From the numbers on the mailboxes, there were only five apartments in the building: two each on the first couple of floors, with the fifth apartment serving as the penthouse.

If you could even call it a ‘penthouse’ in a flea-trap like this. The paint was peeling, the linoleum floors were warped, and the entire place stunk like cigarette smoke and garlic.

As I expected, there wasn’t an elevator just a set of stairs with flickering fluorescent lights.

However, there was a security camera in the lobby ceiling… and the lens was aimed at the front door.

They knew we were coming.

Fuck it couldn’t be helped.

I steeled myself and started up the stairs.

I went as fast as I could. As I passed the second-floor apartments, I heard a TV playing a sitcom with a laugh track.

I kept on going.

I half expected an Agrella foot soldier to be waiting for me at every turn

But the stairwell was deserted.

I made it to the third floor.

There was a small foyer, then the door to the safe house apartment.

I crept down the foyer, paused by the door, and looked back at Marco.

He was dripping sweat. Looked absolutely terrified.

Behind him, Lars had his Glock pointed at the door.

Massimo was to the left of Lars so he could fire without hitting him.

I held up one finger: Wait a second.

Then I reached out, took hold of the doorknob, and slooooowly turned it.

To my surprise, it opened.

I pushed it forward a couple of millimeters

No resistance.

It was open.Property © NôvelDrama.Org.

I glanced at Lars, who nodded. He grabbed Marco by the shoulder and pulled him out of the way.

I looked at the door and swallowed.

This was it.

Do or die.

You wanna be the big man and call the shots?

Then you gotta be willing to be the first one through the door.

I glanced back at Lars and silently mouthed, One… two…

On ‘three,’ I swung the door open

Barged into the room with my shotgun ready

And froze in horror.

My first kill was when I was 17, during a shoot-out with a rival family’s foot soldiers.

In the 11 years since then, I’d killed another dozen men in similar situations. Two had happened last month during the Turk’s attack on our family compound, and I’d probably added another one tonight at the hotel.

None of that prepared me for what I saw.

Five men were strewn around the apartment, lying on the floor or sprawled out on the sofas.

They’d all been shot multiple times.

Several looked like they’d take a dozen bullets to the chest.

Two of them had been shot in the head so badly that they were completely unrecognizable as human.

Blood was everywhere: sprayed on the walls, soaking the carpet, staining the furniture.

It looked like a slaughterhouse.

The only source of light in the room was a TV showing security footage from several cameras, including the one in the lobby.

If anybody had been alive, they absolutely would have seen us coming.

…if anybody had been alive.

I heard Massimo suck in his breath behind me, then let out a whispered, “Madonn…”

Lars brushed past me and swung around to the right, his Glock aimed into the kitchen.

“Clear,” he whispered.

His actions reminded me I had a job to do.

I walked past the corpses and down the hall to the back of the apartment.

The blood-soaked carpet squelched under my shoes as I went.

I checked room after room.

There were two more dead bodies, and they were in even worse shape than the ones in the main room.

I checked the bathroom, the closets

No survivors.

I returned to the main room and found my men standing there, stunned.

Only Lars seemed unaffected. I figured he’d probably seen worse on the battlefield.

“What the fuck happened here?” I asked in a low voice.

Lars gestured at the bodies. “They don’t even have their guns out. Which means they were taken completely by surprise.”

“But there’s security cameras,” I said as I pointed at the TV monitor. “They had to have seen them coming. Unless ”

“Unless they trusted whoever killed them,” Massimo said.

Shit.

Had the Agrellas’ own men done this to them?

Or had it been someone else?

In the eerie silence, it felt like the Devil himself had butchered them, then disappeared without a trace.

Lars placed a finger on one of the bodies.

“I think he’s dead,” I said sardonically.

“He’s also cold,” Lars replied. “Which means this happened a while ago. Look at the blood it’s already sticky. It’s not running down the walls.”

“Shit,” I muttered. “If they were shot more than 10 minutes ago, the cops could be here any second ”

“No,” Lars said. “Listen: there aren’t any sirens.”

He was right the night was filled with normal traffic sounds, but no police sirens.

“Whoever did this had suppressors,” Lars said. “The neighbors probably didn’t hear much at all.”

Massimo pointed to one of the guys on the sofa who had at least a dozen bullet holes in his chest. “And it was automatic gunfire ”

“Like the guys with the Uzis back at the hotel,” I realized.

Lars nodded.

“Why would the Agrellas kill their own men?” I asked.

“After this,” Lars replied, “I’m not entirely sure those guys at the hotel were the Agrellas.”

“Hired hitters?”

“Maybe.”

“But… if they were working with the Agrellas to kill us why the fuck would they kill these guys?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?”

“Not that I don’t find this discussion fascinating,” Massimo said, “but shouldn’t we get the hell out of here?”

“Yeah,” I muttered as I looked at the carnage all around me. “Let’s go.”