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CHAPTER 44 – Against Orders
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2025-08-25 18:00:37The warehouse was cold, draft seeping through cracks in the rusted metal walls. Dust clung to every beam and pipe, and the smell of damp wood mixed with gun oil hung heavy in the air. It wasn’t a base—just a hideout they’d stumbled into after scattering from Russo’s stronghold—but it was the only place where the squad felt safe enough to gather their breath.
Safe was a relative word.
Wyatt paced in tight, angry circles, his boots scuffing against the concrete. “We’re not cut out for this. They knew we were coming, they had us funneled, and now our captain—our captain—is gone.” His voice cracked on the last word.
“She’s not gone,” Alex snapped, his jaw set hard. “She’s alive.”
“You don’t know that.” Wyatt stopped pacing,
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The Mafia's Assassin (Don Russo) CHAPTER 44 – Against Orders
The warehouse was cold, draft seeping through cracks in the rusted metal walls. Dust clung to every beam and pipe, and the smell of damp wood mixed with gun oil hung heavy in the air. It wasn’t a base—just a hideout they’d stumbled into after scattering from Russo’s stronghold—but it was the only place where the squad felt safe enough to gather their breath.Safe was a relative word.Wyatt paced in tight, angry circles, his boots scuffing against the concrete. “We’re not cut out for this. They knew we were coming, they had us funneled, and now our captain—our captain—is gone.” His voice cracked on the last word.“She’s not gone,” Alex snapped, his jaw set hard. “She’s alive.”“You don’t know that.” Wyatt stopped pacing,
The Mafia's Assassin (Don Russo) CHAPTER 43 – The Holding Wing
The cell was not what Sofia expected.When the guards shoved her inside and the heavy door clanged shut behind her, she braced for stone walls, chains, the stench of mildew and iron. Instead, she found herself in a spacious chamber lined with clean whitewashed stone, a narrow bed tucked into one side, and even a small table with a glass of water placed neatly on it. The single barred window high above let in a muted glow from the corridor.It was not a dungeon. It was a gilded cage.She sat on the bed, the ropes on her wrists removed but the sting of their bite still there, and stared at the glass of water. Every fibre of her screamed not to touch it, not to trust anything Russo offered, but her throat was raw and parched. After a long minute, she picked it up, sniffed it, and then drank anyway.Her reflection wavered faintly in the water’s surface before she tipped the glass back. For a moment, she saw her own eyes—the same eyes Damian had spoken about with that strange, haunted tone
The Mafia's Assassin (Don Russo) CHAPTER 42 – The Interrogation
The silence in the office pressed against Sofia like a weight. The ropes biting into her wrists were uncomfortable, but not unbearable. She could handle pain. What unsettled her was the stillness—the measured way both men regarded her, as though she were not their prisoner but a puzzle they intended to solve.Don Russo stood near the desk, pouring a drink into a crystal glass with the ease of someone who had no reason to rush. The sound of liquid splashing against glass was delicate, almost elegant, and it grated against the tension vibrating through her. Damian remained closer, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his dark eyes never leaving her face.“You’ve made quite an impression,” Russo said finally, his tone smooth, conversational, as if they were old acquaintances meeting over drinks rather than adversaries separated by rope and blood. “Most operatives who come after me are either reckless or desperate. You, Captain, are neither. You’re calculated. Precise.”“I’m loyal,” So
The Mafia's Assassin (Don Russo) CHAPTER 41 – The Trap Springs
The first flight of stairs was uneventful. Boots hit the concrete in steady rhythm, the sound bouncing off the narrow walls of the stairwell. The air was still and slightly stale, smelling faintly of dust and the industrial cleaner used hours earlier. Sofia kept her breathing even, her senses stretched thin, reading every sound, every shadow. Something in her gut was off.She’d learned to trust that feeling—because the times she hadn’t, people had died.They rounded the first landing and started up the next set of stairs. Halfway up, the stairwell lights flickered once, twice, then cut out completely, plunging them into darkness.“Night vision,” Sofia ordered immediately, her voice low but commanding.In unison, they dropped their NV visors. The
The Mafia's Assassin (Don Russo) CHAPTER 40 – The First Cracks
The hum of the transport’s engines was a low, steady thrum beneath their boots, the kind of sound that usually faded into the background after the first few minutes of flight. Tonight, the sound felt different—like a pulse counting down to something none of them could stop. It rattled faintly through the floor, through the metal frame of the seats, through the straps and buckles that held their weapons close.Sofia sat near the rear of the cabin, hands loose on her knees but mind coiled tight. Her gaze stayed fixed on the tactical map glowing on the wall beside the cockpit. The lines and shapes formed the path they were meant to take: drop two streets away from the target building, infiltrate through the service entrance, ascend to the private suite where Don Russo was believed to be staying, neutralise the target. The map was clean. Too clean. It didn’t account for shadows, for the unpr
The Mafia's Assassin (Don Russo) CHAPTER 39: Quiet Before the Storm
The morning air inside the compound was unnaturally still, as if even the walls were holding their breath. Sofia’s boots echoed against the polished concrete floor as she made her way toward Master Carlos’s office. Each step was measured, her expression neutral, but her mind was running through a dozen possibilities for how the mission could end. They were ready—or as ready as they could be after the breach—but readiness didn’t erase the unease curling in her gut.When she reached the reinforced door, Carlos’s voice called from inside. “Enter.”He was behind his desk, sharp eyes lifting from a spread of mission reports. Without looking up fully, he gestured for her to speak.“We’re ready,” Sofia said, her voice clipped but steady.Carlos’s gaze sharpened on her then, searching her face for hesitation. “Ready to take on Don Russo?” His tone carried neither approval nor doubt, just a cold measure of her resolve.“Yes,” she said without pause. “The squad’s prepared. Equipment is checked.
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