LOGINMatteo's POV The radio on the wooden crate was buzzing with a constant stream of local police reports and scout chatter, and we were back inside the abandoned olive press while the morning light started to leak through the holes in the tin roof and show the gray dust settling over our three armored trucks. Paolo was busy cleaning the carbon from his shotgun barrel while Lucien sat on a cement sack with a thick white bandage wrapped around his neck where Bruno had tried to choke the life out of him on the villa terrace, and the mood inside the stone walls was incredibly tense because we knew our victory at the ancestral house had just triggered the final alarm in the capital."The scouts near the northern highway bend just confirmed that Don Salvatore has completely pulled his core circle out of the Rome sectors, and he has packed forty trucks full of his best Sicilian shooters to race down the coast road at ninety miles an hour," Paolo said as he jammed a fresh spring into his magazi
Lucien's POV The heat from the burning library was pressing hard against my back as I tried to clear the side terrace, but before I could reach the marble steps that led down to Alessia’s idling pickup truck a massive shadow rose from the smoke near the conservatory doors and a heavy boot kicked my shotgun right out of my hands. It was Bruno, the giant enforcer who had broken my ribs back at the Rome docks three months ago, and he had obviously skipped the capital convoy to guard the family cash vaults because he was staring at me with a face covered in black soot and blood from the recent library blast."I told the Don you would eventually try to sneak down here like a stray dog after your brick yard fell apart, Valenti, but you aren't leaving this terrace tonight because I am going to break your neck with my bare hands right here on your father's old hunting ground," he growled as he dropped his empty submachine gun onto the tiles and stepped forward with his massive fists raised.
Alessia's POV The heavy iron gates of the Rossi villa didn't even hold for five seconds against the welded steel nose of our lead pickup truck, and the metal bars snapped with a loud crunch that echoed through the dark orange groves as Lucien accelerated across the manicured lawns toward the wide marble steps of the main entrance. The ancestral house was massive and lit up like a fortress under the southern moon but the lack of guards on the perimeter proved my theory was right, and Don Salvatore had left nothing but a skeleton crew of old watchmen and cousins to hold his backyard while he spent his days hunting for our ghost cells back in the capital."Paolo, take three boys and secure the rear staff quarters before they can pull the main breaker switches for the lawn lights, and Lucien you stay right behind me with the sledgehammer because the central safeboxes are located in the cellar office behind the library walls," I shouted as I jumped down from the running board and fired a
Matteo's POV The old stone wheels of the abandoned olive press were covered in decades of dried grease and dust, and I sat near the cracked mortar of the eastern window with my rifle resting flat across my good knee while the shadow of the southern hills seemed to close in around our tiny perimeter. We had rolled the three armored pickups under the rotting timber roof of the mill just before the sky started to turn that pale, ugly gray of dawn, and every time a bird stirred in the orange groves outside my fingers clamped tight around the trigger guard because these valleys belonged entirely to Don Salvatore and the silence out there felt completely fake."You need to take two of these white pills and stop staring into the weeds, Matteo, because the boys have already blocked the main trail with olive branches and nobody is going to find this mill unless they are looking for it from an airplane," Paolo said as he set a tin cup of lukewarm water down on the concrete slab beside my boot.
Lucien's POV The air grew thin and cold as our three reinforced utility vehicles climbed higher into the rugged mountains of Calabria, and the loose gravel clicked against the newly welded iron radiator plates while the dark pines crowded the narrow asphalt like walls. We had been driving for nearly six hours without using the main highway checkpoints because Paolo knew the old logging paths that cut through the ridges, and every tiny stone village we passed had old men sitting on wooden benches who watched our covered flatbed with hostile eyes because they recognized the city plates and they knew exactly who owned these hills."These mountain people have been eating from Don Salvatore’s hand for two generations and they don't like strangers tracking mud through their orchards, so if one of those lookouts reaches a landline telephone our entire arrival will be broadcast to the Rossi villa before we even clear the upper pass," Paolo said as he kept both hands clamped tight around the
Alessia's POV The yellow garbage truck was leaking a heavy trail of black oil by the time we finally rolled it into an old quarry hangar near the southern edge of the city, and the engine gave one last loud hiss before it died completely and left us in the quiet dark of the concrete shelter. I hopped down from the high cab and wiped the sweat from my eyes while Lucien helped Matteo crawl out of the back seating area, and my brother was groaning through his teeth because the wild ride down the river boulevard had caused two of his thigh stitches to rip completely open again."We can't stay in these metropolitan sectors for another twelve hours because the Butcher is going to turn every single stone from the harbor to the northern tracks, and we simply don't have the soldiers or the ammunition to trade shots with his veterans in every alleyway," I said as I unhitched my weapon belt and dropped it onto a rusted workbench where Paolo was already laying out our remaining money sacks."The







