Page 73 of Damon

"On the way."

Two minutes later, Tommy arrives with a small shaped charge and the equipment to set it. We position it carefully on the wall next to the door, then retreat to a safe distance.

"Fire in the hole!"

The explosion tears a man-sized hole in the wall, filling the hallway with dust and debris. Before the smoke clears, I'm through the hole with my pistol drawn.

Leandro Manzo is crouched behind an overturned desk, bleeding from a head wound caused by the blast. Two bodies lie near him, clearly Verga leadership who trusted this asshole to protect them.

"Game over, Leandro."

He looks up at me with hate-filled eyes. "You think this ends anything? There are others. More families who want you dead. The Verga coming after you is only the beginning."

"Maybe. But you won't be around to see it."

"You're making a mistake, Lombardi. Killing me won't solve your problems."

"It sure as hell will solve one of them."

I raise my pistol, but before I can fire, Manzo lunges for a gun on the floor. I put two rounds in his chest before he can reach it.

Leandro Manzo collapses, his eyes going glassy as blood pools beneath him.

"All bastards eliminated," I report into my comm.

"Copy that," my father responds. "Initiate cleanup protocol and get out."

I stand over Manzo's body, thinking about everything that led to this point. The attacks, the safe house breach, the weeks of hiding with Viviana.

"Boss," Tommy yells from the hallway. "We need to move. Police response in three minutes."

"On my way."

I holster my weapon and head back through the hole in the wall. The compound is quiet now except for the crackling of fires and the distant sound of sirens.

"Cleanup teams, status report," I call out as we move toward the exit.

"Weapons cache destroyed."

"All targets eliminated, no survivors."

"Outstanding. All teams extract to the rally point."

We move through the compound efficiently, leaving behind nothing but bodies and flames. The Verga family's reign is over, ended in less than an hour of coordinated violence.

The drive to the rally point takes fifteen minutes through back roads and industrial areas. By the time we arrive at the abandoned warehouse where both families are waiting, the adrenaline is starting to wear off and the reality of what we've accomplished is setting in.

"Mission accomplished," I report to my father as our men unload from their vehicles.

"Casualties?"

"None on our side. Elimination of Verga leadership in the building."

"Outstanding work." My father's smile is cold, satisfied. "The Verga threat is eliminated. Now it’s time to take the girl back to her family where she belongs."

I should feel relief it’s over.

Instead, all I can think about is what comes next.