Chapter 45
The vibrant, sprawling festival of San Giovanni filled the narrow, cobblestone streets of the nearby village with life, color, and a cacophony of joyful music. Under normal circumstances, Dante and Maya would have taken the children to watch the fireworks burst over the ancient bell towers. Tonight, however, the festival provided the perfect, chaotic cover for Lorenzo Vieri’s first physical move against the Russo family.
Dante sat in the back of a heavily armored SUV parked discreetly in an alley overlooking the main piazza. Matteo sat in the driver’s seat, his eyes scanning the dense, laughing crowds through the windshield. Back at the villa, the estate was locked down tighter than a federal reserve, with Maya, Sophia, and Leo secured deep within the subterranean vault.
"I have eyes on three hostiles moving through the eastern arcade," Matteo reported over the encrypted internal radio, his hand resting on the grip of his concealed weapon. "They match the profiles of Vieri’s private military contractors. They are sweeping the cafes, looking for us."
"Hold your fire, Matteo," Dante commanded softly from the shadows of the backseat. "We do not shed blood in the streets. We are not animals."
"They are heavily armed, Boss. If they locate this vehicle, they will light it up," Matteo warned, his jaw clenched tight.
"They won't get the chance," Dante replied, pulling a small, sleek tablet from his jacket. "Vieri relies on absolute control. To defeat him, we must show him that his control is an illusion. I’ve synced our surveillance feeds with the local carabinieri network. Watch."
Dante tapped a command on the screen. Instantly, the streetlights in the eastern arcade flickered and died, plunging that specific section of the piazza into darkness. The three mercenaries paused, visibly confused by the sudden blackout. Before they could adjust their night optics, the encrypted cell phones in their pockets simultaneously began to scream with a deafening, high-pitched alarm.
The chaotic noise immediately drew the attention of a four-man patrol of heavily armed Italian military police stationed near the fountain.
"They are carrying unregistered, military-grade sidearms," Dante murmured, his pale gray eyes fixed on the unfolding scene. "In Italy, that is a direct ticket to a maximum-security cell."
The police rushed the confused mercenaries, weapons drawn and flashlights blinding. Within seconds, Vieri’s elite hit squad was disarmed, pinned to the cobblestones, and dragged away in handcuffs, completely neutralized without Dante or Matteo ever stepping out of the vehicle or firing a single shot.
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"Checkmate on the opening move," Matteo breathed, a rare, genuine grin breaking across his scarred face. "You weaponized the local authorities."
"Let’s go home," Dante said, placing the tablet back into his pocket. "Vieri just lost his vanguard. Tomorrow, he will be desperate enough to parley."
