For thirty seconds, there is no syndicate. There is no Bratva. There is only the heat of his skin, the frantic beat of his heart, and the terrifying realization that I am entirely, helplessly in love with him.
And then, the world shatters.
A deafening, metallicCRUNCHshatters the silence.
The entire Maybach violently lurches sideways. The impact throws me hard against Cassio’s chest. The screech of tearing metal and squealing tires is agonizingly loud as the armored car spins out of control.
"Ambush!" Matteo roars from the front seat.
I scream as we slam into the median, the car shuddering to a violent halt. My head spins, the sudden whiplash leaves me dizzy and disoriented.
Before I can even process what just happened, the night explodes into a terrifying chorus of automatic gunfire.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
Sparks fly like fireworks as bullets rain down on the passenger side of the Maybach. The heavy, reinforced ballistic glass spiderwebs instantly, a hundred white cracks blooming across the window just inches from my face.
"Get down!" Cassio bellows.
Cassio shoves me forcefully off his lap, pressing me down into the narrow floorboards behind Dante’s seat.
"Stay down, Noemi! Do not move a fucking muscle!" he orders, his hand pressing the back of my head down as far as I can go.
"Boss, they T-boned the lead SUV!" Dante shouts from the driver’s seat, slamming the transmission into reverse. The tires spin uselessly for a second against the wet asphalt before catching, the engine roaring in protest. "We’re blocked in! Two heavy trucks front and rear!"
"Bratva?" Cassio demands, drawing his customized 1911 in a blur of motion.
"Bratva and Irish!" Matteo confirms, his own weapon drawn, his eyes scanning the chaotic darkness outside the shattered spiderwebs of the glass. "I see red armbands! They coordinated!"
"Drive over the fucking median, Dante!" Cassio roars. "Get us out of this kill box!"
BAM! BAM! BAM!
The sound of heavy-caliber rounds slamming into the armored plating of the car is deafening, like sitting inside a metal drum being beaten with sledgehammers. I squeeze my eyes shut, clapping my hands over my ears, my entire body trembling uncontrollably. The smell of burning rubber and cordite floods the cabin through the air vents.
This is the war. The war my father warned me about. The war Cassio has been fighting in the shadows.
"The armor is holding, but it won't take armor-piercing rounds!" Matteo yells. He kicks his door open a fraction of an inch andblind-fires three shots into the rain before pulling it shut again. "They’re advancing on foot!"
"Go! Go! Go!" Cassio shouts.
Dante wrenches the steering wheel hard. The Maybach lurches backward, the rear bumper smashing into something solid with a sickening crunch. He shifts into drive, flooring the gas pedal. The massive engine howls as the car hops the concrete median, the undercarriage scraping violently with a screech of tearing metal.
We land hard on the opposite lane.
"We’re clear! Heading south toward the cliffs!" Dante yells, his hands moving frantically over the wheel.
"Call Gianni! Get the perimeter team moving to intercept us!" Cassio orders Matteo.
The car accelerates to a terrifying speed, weaving through the rain-slicked streets. The streetlights flash past the spiderwebbed windows in a dizzying strobe effect. I stay curled in a ball on the floorboards, my heart beating so fast I can barely draw a breath.
"Are you okay?" Cassio’s voice drops down to me, his free hand gripping my shoulder. His grip is tight, reassuring, a solid anchor in the middle of a nightmare.
"Y-yes," I stammer, choking on the acrid smoke filling the car. "Cassio, what's happening?"
"They’re making their play," he says grimly, his eyes locked on the rear window. "They knew Salvatore forced us to the Lombardi estate tonight. They knew our exact route."
"A mole," Matteo says, turning around, his face pale in the dashboard light. "Someone tipped them off, Boss. Someone fed them the route."