“How many do you see?” I ask into the burner phone, my other wrist resting on the wheel of the car as I sit back and let my shoulders relax. I wonder if I’ll ever be immune to that tension I feel in my back that wells up when I know I’m about to take a life.

Tonight, it will be many lives.

“At least eight,” says Nico through the phone, his voice so hushed I wouldn’t be able to hear him if I weren’t in the privacy of the car. “The intel was good. Irish are here. I’ve seen a couple of them before. Nobody too important. They must be cautious.”

“Smart,” I say, putting my phone between my shoulder and jaw to free up my hands and let me check over the weapons I have strapped to me.

Nico is about a block away, perched up on a rooftop and watching the meeting site through the scope of a sniper rifle. I’m sitting in my car around the block, out of sight until I’m ready to move.

He’s being my eyes for now, but he’s a damn good shot, too. A weapon like the one he has isn’t one you use lightly, so this needs to count. He offered it to me, but I’m more of a hands-on man.

I want to look Lorenzo in the eyes when I kill him.

“Five Cleaners, three Irish,” Nico confirms.

“And Lorenzo?” I ask.

“No sight of him…” Nico says, trailing off. “Wait. There’s a car pulling up. Tinted windows, but the Irish are watching it.”

“There he is,” I say, smiling.

“Window’s coming down,” Nico whispers. “Someone inside is saying something. I think it’s Lorenzo in there, but it’s hard to tell. Shit, I can’t line up a good shot, the people outside keep moving too much. One miss and that car will tear out of here.”

“I’ll take care of that,” I say casually, rolling my shoulders back and putting my car into gear.

“What?”

“Be ready.”

“Bruno, what are y-” but I end the call before Nico can finish. Headlights off, I pull out, my jaw set.

I’m not giving Lorenzo half a chance to slip away again.

My engine tears down the narrow road as I near the meeting site. They’ve heard me by now, and in a few moments, they’ll realize I’m coming their way. No time for hesitation now, I have to strike fast.

I come up on the corner fast, and I use the handbrake to pull a hard, screeching turn to point the front of my car right down the alley. As soon as I do, I flip my brights on, and I’m treated to the sight of exactly what Nico described: one black sedan and eight men looking at me, wide-eyed and stunned.

I throw the car back into gear and barrel down the alley.

A couple of the men are sharp and quick enough to dive for cover, but the car doesn’t have the blessing of being able to get moving so fast.

I can hear curses and shouts from the group and I tear forward, and I brace myself for impact.

Metal groans with a loud crash and glass shatters as my car rams the black sedan, my whole body lurching forward with the momentum. I had time to see the driver’s door crumple and the driver throw his arms up in defense before I covered my eyes with my arm, and I feel the sting of glass in my own skin.

In the next moment, a stunned silence like the calm before the storm, I roll out of the car and draw my weapons.

“Lorenzo!” I shout, and the word has hardly left my mouth before I hear bullets start flying.

A pistol in each hand, I open fire on the car while I run for cover. The driver is slumped over his wheel and a man in the back isn’t moving, but the rest are scrambling to spill out the other side.

In front of the car, two Cleaners are already firing at me, and with a quiet thud I see one of them jolt, a bullet wound in his head, and he slumps to the ground.

Nico is giving me cover with his rifle.

“A fucking sniper!” the other man calls, a moment before another bullet silences him too.

Three Cleaners are still standing, not counting the three more from the car who I can now see clearly. I feel rage boil up within me as I see each of their faces.

Lorenzo isn’t among them.

As the three remaining Cleaners open fire, I dive behind a battered dumpster. I hear the sound of hurried footsteps, and I turn to see the three Irish making a run for it. I let them go—someone will need to spread the word tonight.

Bullets spray my cover, and as I blindfire back at them, I hear another dull thud, and the firing stops as the men shout at each other to take cover from the sniper. It’s a chance I have to seize.

I leap out from cover and charge after the three from the car who are trying to dig their heels in behind its ruins. I leap over my own car and rain bullets down on them, catching one in the heart and putting him to the ground while the others scramble to react.

They weren’t expecting such a flagrant attack, and if I’m honest, neither was I—but I’m seeing red, and these men will pay for their deception.

At close range, one man tries to swing at me. I dodge his blow and catch his wrist, pulling him around my front with the sickening sound of his elbow getting broken. I use his shoulder as a rest to fire at the third man, who takes a bullet to the shoulder and staggers back, diving around the front of their car.

I curse and put my gun to my captive’s head, executing him swiftly. I have just half a second to take cover before the injured man starts blind-firing at me.

He’s got me pinned down, and I know Nico can’t get a good shot at him while he’s crouching behind the front of the car. I’m crouching by the driver’s door—we’re so close I can hear him breathing, but neither of us can pop out of cover without getting shot, and with the other three Cleaners still alive and trying to get a shot at me, my time is running out.

Then a steady rumbling sound catches my attention—the Cleaners’ car is still running. Without a second thought, I pull the car door open, pull the dead man out, climb in, and keep my head down before flooring the acceleration.

I hear a surprised scream from the man as the car plows over him, and I roll back out the moment he’s down to finish him off with a quick shot. A loud clang tells me the force of the impact knocked the already-loose car door off its hinges, and it now lies flat on the ground nearby.

I feel the sting of a bullet hit my arm, and I draw in a sharp breath through my teeth—the three remaining Cleaners are getting bolder, and I turn to see they’ve found cover behind the dumpster.

My adrenaline is pumping, I’m exposed, and I don’t have time to think. In a fluid motion, I seize the car door and lift it up like a shield to cover my body. I hardly feel its weight with the rush of the fight coursing through my veins. It’s by no means good protection, but it’s better than nothing.

Nothing else to lose, I charge them.

I see one of them peek around the corner, and his face goes white at the sight of me, battered, half-covered in blood, furiously rushing them with a car door for a shield. I must look like some lunatic barbarian warrior, out of time and place in reality.

Bullets start raining in on my barrier, and some ricochet off to the brick walls around us, while some make it through, and I feel the hot sting pierce my other arm and my shoulders as bullets graze them.

But by the time I make it to them, two of them stagger back when I hurl the thing at them. One man gets the full force of it, and the others stagger back for fear that I’m going to charge through the lot of them.

I put a bullet in one of the two while Nico picks off the other.

Before he can struggle for his gun, I put my foot on top of the car door, pinning the man under it with a pained grunt as I point my pistol at him. I don’t know when I dropped my other one, but at this point, I don’t care.

“Lorenzo,” I bark, bloodthirsty eyes boring into his pained face. “Where is he?”

“Vaffanculo,” he spits, and I have no patience to twist him for information.

I pull the trigger, leaving his brains on the asphalt.

I hold my weapon pointed at the body for a few moments before I realize I can hear the ringing in my ears, feel my chest rising and falling, the tension in my gritted teeth. I lower my gun, looking around at the scene.

Eight bodies, two wrecked cars, walls and ground riddled with bullet holes, and more blood than I’ve seen in a long time. The Cleaners’ car is devastated, but somehow, mine looks...well, it’s serviceable. I hear the engine still running, at least, and there are only a few bullet holes in it.

For a moment, everything around me feels like it’s dulled by the ringing in my ears, but that soon fades as I realize I can hear the buzz of my phone from my car. I stride toward it, broken glass crunching underfoot. I calmly pull the car door open and reach to the floorboard to pick up the phone.

It’s Nico.

I put the phone to my ear and look up to his location. “Still with me up there?”

“Bruno, what in the everloving fuck was that?!” he snaps, but I just grin up at him and wink.

“Come on, dinner with Rafaela’s parents can’t be much worse than this,” I say. There’s a solid five seconds of silence from the other end of the call. “What, did I cross the line?”

“Hold still, I’m deciding whether to shoot you now or later,” Nico says. “Christ, Bruno, warn me before you pull that cowboy bullshit next time. You alright? You’re covered in blood.”

I look down at myself. I can’t feel much of the pain yet, thanks to the rush of adrenaline still surging through me. “Most of it’s not mine. Glass cuts, a few grazing shots, and I’d say they got two good shots in,” I say, checking out the bloody mess of my shoulder.

“There’s a saint watching over you somewhere, I swear,” Nico says.

“Lorenzo wasn’t here, Nico,” I say. I’m oddly calm. “Was this another trap?”

“I don’t know,” Nico admits, “I’ll go take care of my informant. Bruno, do you-”

“You do that,” I say, striding back to my car and stowing my weapons, picking up the one I’d dropped. I’m going to need every bullet I’ve got left. “Save yourself some time and put a bullet in him for me.”

“Bruno, what are you doing?”

I get into my car, putting it into reverse and moving my battered car back out of the wreckage, a grim look on my face.

“I have a bad feeling. I need to get to Serena. Now.”