Six Months Contract With The Mafia God

One of Dante’s men went down, a sniper round catching him in the chest, lifting him off his feet, dropping him motionless to the concrete.

Then another.

Then another.

Dimitri had snipers positioned outside the warehouse. Dimitri had overwhelming force. Dimitri had the advantage in every possible way.

But Dante’s remaining men fought anyway.

They fought with the desperation of soldiers who understood they were likely to die but refused to go quietly.

A grenade exploded, thrown from behind Dimitri’s positions, creating a concussive blast that sent three of Dimitri’s men sprawling.

Marco was coordinating the assault, moving between positions, ensuring fields of fire, pressing the advantage.

Dante was crouched behind the metal container with Luca, trying to assess the situation, trying to find an escape route, trying to understand if there was any way out of this warehouse alive.

”We need to move,” Luca said, his voice absolutely calm despite the bullets flying around them. ”We have maybe two minutes before they overwhelm our positions.”

”Where?” Dante asked, gesturing at the warehouse. ”There’s no way out. The exits are sealed. The roof is exposed. They have us completely surrounded.”

”Not completely,” Luca said, and he was already moving, already pulling Dante toward the far side of the warehouse. ”We have one option left.”

”What option?” Dante demanded.

”Controlled chaos,” Luca replied.

He pulled out his radio.

”Deploy tear gas,” Luca commanded. ”Now. All units. Maximum dispersal.”

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then...canisters of tear gas began erupting around the warehouse.

Dante had brought tear gas canisters for exactly this purpose: emergency dispersal to create an escape window when things went completely wrong.

The tear gas filled the warehouse in seconds....thick, acrid clouds of chemical fog that reduced visibility to nearly zero. The tear gas didn’t discriminate. It affected Dimitri’s forces just as much as Dante’s, but Dante’s men knew it was coming.

Dimitri’s forces didn’t.

Dimitri’s men immediately began falling back, coughing, eyes streaming, losing their tactical coordination in the fog.

”GO!” Luca screamed.

He grabbed Dante and started moving through the smoke.

But Dante couldn’t run.

His legs, shot multiple times during the initial firefight....were barely functional. He was bleeding heavily, limping, moving on sheer adrenaline and desperation.

Luca practically dragged him forward, supporting his weight, moving through the tear gas fog toward an exit that Luca had identified during the initial reconnaissance.

Around them, Dante’s remaining men were providing covering fire, shooting through the tear gas, blind suppressive fire designed to keep Dimitri’s forces from pursuing.

Men were screaming.

Men were dying.

The warehouse was filled with smoke and blood and the sound of gunfire muffled by the chemical fog.

One of Dante’s men, a loyalty operative named Giuseppe who’d been with Dante for five years...stood his ground, firing his weapon, refusing to retreat, giving Luca and Dante the seconds they needed to move deeper.

A sniper round caught Giuseppe in the head.

He dropped.

Another man took his place.

And another.

And another.

More than half of Dante’s remaining security personnel were dying...literally dying, to create an escape corridor.

They weren’t running. They weren’t abandoning their boss.

They were standing their ground, knowing they were likely to die, and fighting anyway.

Luca was moving faster now, half-carrying, half-dragging Dante through the smoke.

Blood was streaming down Dante’s legs. His entire body was shaking from pain and adrenaline. But he was moving. He was alive. And Luca was determined to keep him that way.

”Almost there,” Luca was saying, his voice cutting through the chaos. ”Stay with me. Almost there.”

They reached the emergency exit, a side door that Luca had identified as viable during the briefing.

Luca pushed it open.

The afternoon sunlight hit them like a physical force.

Outside, a vehicle was waiting. Dante’s escape vehicle, prepped and ready, engine running, passenger door open.

Luca threw Dante into the passenger seat.

”GO!” Luca screamed at the driver.

The vehicle accelerated.

Behind them, the warehouse was still erupting in gunfire, still filled with smoke and violence and the sound of men dying.

But Dante was out.

Wounded, broken, bleeding heavily, but alive.

*INSIDE THE WAREHOUSE*

Marco appeared beside Dimitri as the tear gas began to clear.

The chemical fog was dissipating, visibility was returning, and the warehouse situation was becoming clear.

Dante and Luca were gone.

The vehicle was disappearing around the corner of the industrial district.

More than half of Dante’s remaining security personnel were dead, their bodies scattered across the warehouse floor, victims of the extraction operation they’d fought to enable.

”Sir,” Marco said, his voice suggesting the obvious question. ”Luca got him out. Should we pursue? If we move now, we can catch them before they get far. We can finish this.”

Dimitri watched the empty street where the vehicle had disappeared.

He was absolutely still, his mind processing, his cold calculation at work.

Marco waited for the order to pursue. Marco was ready to chase them down, to catch them, to finish what had been started.

But Dimitri was thinking about something different.

He was thinking about a man who’d tried to take everything from him and had lost it all.

He was thinking about the fact that more than half of Dante’s men had died loyal to him.

”Let them go,” Dimitri said finally.

”Sir?” Marco asked, confusion crossing his face.

”Dante is more dead than alive at this moment, Even if he survives his wounds, he’s finished here unless he make it back to Rome”

Dimitri paused, looking at the bodies scattered across the warehouse floor, the men who’d died fighting for Dante, the evidence of a loyalty that even Dimitri had to respect.

”He’s already dead,” Dimitri said. ”No matter what happens next, He won’t be a threat to me again..”

Marco nodded, understanding the psychology of that decision, understanding that sometimes letting an enemy live was more devastating than killing them.

”Yes, boss,” Marco said.

Dimitri turned and looked at the warehouse, at the bodies, at the blood, at the evidence of the war that had just been fought and won.

”Clean this up,” Dimitri commanded. ”And then take me to Eve. I need to see her.”

He walked away from the warehouse without looking back.