Archie slid the blueprint toward me.“I’ll get you the exact headcount and arrival route.You’ll place your devices here, here, and here.”
I leaned over the table, tracing the areas with a fingertip.
“Support beams.Both stairwells.And the southern foundation.”I whistled low.“You’re not just killing them.You want them buried in that building.”
Archie’s smile was thin, cruel.“I want them erased even more than you do.”
There was a kind of calm that hit me when planning mass destruction.Like the world finally made sense.Like everything slowed down—heart, breath, thought.
Grief became manageable.Pain became fuel.Fear became irrelevant.
And for Alessio?For the kid who used to steal my cigarettes and leave me shitty drawings of bombs tucked in my jacket pocket?I’d make this beautiful.Explosives were art.And tonight?I was painting.
Archie tapped the warehouse diagram again.
“This building,” he explained, “has one weakness: a hollow core under the main floor.It was built for storage containers, but that section was abandoned.No one’s reinforced it in years.”
I nodded.“Makes collapse easier.”
“What if Semyon brings more men than expected?”Gianni asked.
Archie folded his hands.“He won’t.He trusts too easily when he thinks he has advantage.He’ll bring generals, not foot soldiers.”
“Well,” I grinned, “he’ll die educated.”
Marcello stood straighter.“We set the charges hours before the meeting.Raze?”He nodded to me.“You coordinate placement.Gianni?You handle perimeter.I’ll handle weapons distribution.”
Archie smiled darkly.“And I’ll personally escort Semyon to the center of the room.”
“You volunteering to die too?”I asked.
Archie smirked.“No.I’m volunteering to watch.”
This alliance was dangerous.It was temporary but perfect.
Marcello placed both hands on the table.
“We end this now,” he promised.
“For Alessio,” Gianni muttered.
“For the family,” Archie added.
I clicked my lighter shut.
“For fun,” I added.
They stared at me.I shrugged.
“What?I’m honest.”
Marcello cut a look at me—but his lips twitched.
He knew exactly what he’d brought into the room.
I ranmy hand along the support beam of the warehouse, humming under my breath as I unpacked the explosives.I didn’t like to call them bombs.They weren’t devices, either.They were instruments.Everyone here tonight was treating the operation like vengeance.But for me, it was creation.
Marcello called softly from across the dark floor.“Raze.Progress?”