Things were about to get ugly.
Real ugly, real fast.
Of all the Santini men, Gabriel was the most ruthless. As far as G was concerned, the bloodier the massacre, the better.
In silence, the brothers made their way toward the back of the restaurant. A black cat scurried past. Teddy thought of Sydney’s comment about seeing a black cat on Halloween.
Focus up.
As they approached the back door, Teddy’s heart rate didn’t spike. His blood pressure didn’t jump either. He was laser-focused and eerily relaxed. Going on a kill was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. For better or for worse, he’d never had any issues taking out a monster.
It was the “after” that he struggled with the most. Being an assassin came with a price. Each kill wore heavy on his soul.
At the back door, Teddy unearthed his phone?—
“Is it on silent?” Greystone asked.
“No,” Teddy bit out, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I was hoping Mom would call and we could catch up.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Gabriel hissed. “They got cameras.”
“I turned those off,” Teddy said.
Greystone and Gabriel looked at each other, then at Teddy.
“You never said anything,” Gabriel said.
“It’s assumed,” Teddy replied.
“Bel lavoro,” Greystone said. “Good job.”
Teddy opened the app, toggled over to the electrical grid, then activated the power outage. Seconds later, the area went pitch black.
All three men lowered the night goggles on their helmets.
Greystone pulled out his lock picks, but Gabriel murmured, “No, we shoot out the lock, go in firing. It’s an ambush, not a surprise party.”
That was not how Teddy and Greystone worked. But this was Gabriel’s mission, so Greystone shoved the small tool back in its case.
POP!
Gabriel shot out the lock, turned the handle, and entered the dark building, Teddy and Greystone close on his heels. Loud, angry Russian words had the brothers moving toward the small salon on the right. To their surprise, the billiards room stood empty. Gabriel led them down the hall toward the main dining room.
Teddy had memorized the faces of the six criminals. Fierce-looking hitmen with broken noses that hadn’t healed straight, several with missing teeth. One had lost a finger in a fight. These professional killers were some of the most ruthless in the world.
They didn’t just kill their targets, they tortured them first.
A quick sweep of the dark room showed eight men and three women sitting around the tables in the center of the room. Of theeleven, two were standing. Swirling cigarette smoke clogged the air.
Teddy homed in on his targets, aimed, and fired.
POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP!
Down went his two.
With lightning speed, the Russians pulled their weapons and opened fire in the pitch-black room.
BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG!