Page 16 of Control (Dark Syndicate #1)

I reload my gun. My eyes continue to scan the room, scanning for any threat, but it’s Angelo I spot. There, hiding behind the makeshift throne, the pathetic little coward.

The bastard didn’t cost me much, just a little betrayal.

Snitching to the police over one of our previous powder shipments.

He set off a chain of investigations that had me burying operations for months, compromising intel, and feeding it right to the enemy.

I didn’t have the time to hunt him down before, as it was buried in the mess that came with getting everything back on track.

But now? I’m done waiting. I don’t do “later.” I take care of shit when it’s in front of me. And right now, Angelo is in front of me.

I give Marco a brief glance, signaling him to cover me as I move toward the other side of the room, where the rat’s hiding. He’s too distracted by his own fear to see me coming, too wrapped up in his pathetic little world to notice that death’s coming for him.

I get to him quickly and silently. I knock the groom out with the back of my gun, and the loud thud of his head hitting the ground is enough to rattle the bride. She looks up, and fear immediately spreads across her face.

“Dad—” she starts, but I don’t hesitate. I knock her unconscious too. A bit of generosity, given the occasion.

“Wait, Remo. Let’s talk about this,” Angelo pleads, his voice shaking. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t have a choice. It was either me or you.”

I look at him, and for a moment, I actually think about it. What he’s saying isn’t wrong. It’s instinct, survival. It’s what everyone would do in his position.

“Well,” I say, my voice cold, “it’s normal to put yourself first in such a situation. I completely understand. But you’ve had your turn. Now it’s mine.”

“Remo, wait—” he begs, but it’s too late.

I fire two shots straight to the mouth. And another in the center of his forehead. His body slumps forward, his life draining out of him.

I stand there, staring down at him and the blood pooling around his body. The satisfaction is brief, a flicker that dies before it can even register. I’ve done this a thousand times before, and it’s never different. The feeling never changes.

Victory doesn’t feel like victory after so many years of this.

Nothing really lasts. The power fades the moment it’s in your hands, the moment you realize nothing you do can ever hold it all together.

The team moves in, and Marco is at my side, checking me over the way he’s always done. His eyes flick to my shoulder.

“Boss, you’ve been hit.”

I didn’t even notice, but it’s there. Blood is soaking through my jacket, but I don’t care. Not now. Not yet.

“I’m fine,” I tell him, my voice clipped. “Livia, let’s go.”

Livia, still frozen, is slow to react. Her mind is elsewhere, and I know why. It’s on that guy, the one who spotted her earlier, the one who could spill everything if he talked.

We don’t stop until we’re inside the car, and the engine is roaring to life. Marco takes the wheel, but my mind is already spinning. The city whips by, lights flashing in and out of focus, but none of them seem real.

The wedding? Angelo’s men? It’s all part of the bullshit of this life. It’s a job, a mission. And the rest doesn’t matter. But the whole damn thing, it feels off.

Somehow, all I can think about is Daniela. She’s there in my head, always there, clawing at the corners of my mind. I hate it, but I can’t get rid of it.

I stare out the window, watching the streetlights blur into streaks of light. Livia shifts in her seat, catching my eyes for a split second before looking away. The guilt in her eyes is obvious, but I can’t afford to care right now.

Marco pulls off the main road, heading toward the safe house.

I glance at Livia, who’s still rattled. She’s holding herself together, but just barely. “You better pray that guy didn’t talk,” I warn her.

She snaps back at me, defensive. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.”

I know the kind of “taking care” she means. She’ll find him, and she’ll end it. But I don’t answer. Not yet.

We finally reach the safe house. It’s quiet, unsettlingly so. The door shuts behind us, sealing us in, and the finality of it cracks through my bones.

I turn to face Livia with my fists clenched tight.

In a blink, I slam her into the wall. The whole damn room shakes, but I don’t care. She’s barely holding herself up, and for a split second, I relish it.

My hands tremble as I grab my knife. When the cold steel presses against her neck, her breath catches, and I see the panic in her eyes.

“This is the last time you’ll ever be this reckless.

I don’t give a damn who you fuck. But keep my name out of your fucking mouth.

You nearly got us all killed, Livia!” I spit.

“I told you before. Your personal bullshit doesn’t matter.

You keep your head in the game, or I’ll make sure you don’t get a second chance. ”

She’s already apologizing, talking fast, and trying to talk me down with weak words.

“You fucking understand me now?!” I growl as she nods frantically.

Marco has just come back from his perimeter check, scanning for threats. He stands in the doorway, his eyes steady, loyal without question.

I turn to him and give a quick nod. “Get her out of here.”

There’s no argument. He just grabs Livia by the arm and drags her out without a word.

I’m alone now.

I take a breath, trying to calm the fire burning under my skin.

I move to the bathroom, ignoring the strain in my neck as I peel off my shirt. My shoulder is a mess—the deep cut, bleeding like a damn faucet. I press a rag to it. The burn of the wound hurts like a bitch, but I keep going.

I feel around for the bullet and yank it out with a pair of pliers. The pain’s enough to make my vision swim, but I push through it. After, I pour antiseptic over the hole,cover it with some gauze, and wrap it tight.

Hopefully, it’ll hold for now.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I don’t recognize the man staring back at me. Too much chaos. Too much blood. Too much fury.

I take a breath, steadying myself. There’s only one thing left to do.

I pull my phone out and scroll through the screens to find it—the live feed of Daniela’s room.

It is all I have left.