Page 14 of The Bonventi Hitman

I walk back over to the box and open it. Inside I see dresses, random clothing, and a few pairs of shoes. I lift one of the dresses out of the box and examine it. It’s got less material than my revealing outfit from the party.

So he wants to show me off? Put me on display?

The thought makes me uncomfortable, but I remind myself that this is part of the job. I need to use every asset at my disposal to complete this mission.

I sit at the counter and suddenly feel ravenous. I devour the food, barely tasting it as my mind turns with possibilities. If Luca is coming for me later, that means I have a window of time to make my next move.

I lick a stray smear of jam from my finger and think about my options. If my first order of business is contacting the Bureau to update them on this disastrous turn of events, I'll need to ditch any surveillance I'm undoubtedly under and make the call from a secure location. I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to do that, but that's the main objective today - no matter where he takes me.

I finish my orange juice and stand, my eyes drifting to the box of clothes Luca sent. A fleeting thought crosses my mind - will Gabriel be wherever Luca's taking me?

Ugh, maybe it doesn't matter. I’m annoyed with him for even bringing me here and I can't afford distractions, not when the stakes are this high.

Either way, by the time Luca arrives to "escort" me, I'll be ready, a vision of innocence with a focused operator lurking underneath.

A wolf in sheep's clothing, as they say.

GABRIEL - 6

It's just after 2 am when I pull up to the warehouse in Chicago's abandoned industrial zone. The Russians are inside, waiting for their heroin shipment from Mexico. Twenty-one million dollars' worth of product about to change hands.

And I'm here to make sure none of them walk away from it.

The warehouse looms ahead, a gray brick tomb with boarded windows and a single flickering light above the entrance. As I gather my gear, Sofia's face flashes through my mind. Those deep eyes that seem to see right through me, the way she flinched when I touched her at the party. The memory of her makes my hands clench around my rifle.

And now Luca has her.

The thought sends a surge of rage through me.

Focus. The job comes first.

I find my entry point—a broken window near the fire escape—and start my climb. The rusted ladder refuses to budge, but I pullmyself up anyway, muscles straining as I haul myself onto the roof.

Inside, the warehouse air reeks of fuel and dust. Russian voices echo below as they inspect their shipment, completely unaware of what's coming. I settle into position, rifle trained on the men below. This is what I do best—dealing death to those who threaten the family.

The scope gives me a perfect view of the Russians. It would be so easy to start shooting, to let the familiar rush of violence take over. But for a split second, I see Sofia's eyes again, the way she looked at me that night.

Focus, dammit.

I exhale slowly, steadying my aim. The Russians moved in on our territory, threatened our family. They need to learn what happens when you cross the Bonventis.

These Russians need to die. Everything else—including thoughts of her—can wait.

I take the first shot, and the Russian closest to the semi drops instantly. Blood sprays across the white truck as chaos erupts below. They scramble for cover, but my position gives me the advantage.

Two more shots, two more bodies hit the ground. Clean. Efficient. The way I've always worked.

Another tries to run for the door. My bullet finds him before he makes it halfway. The warehouse falls silent except for the whimpers of their leader, cowering behind a stack of crates.

Perfect.

I take aim and catch him in the shoulder, then the ankle. He won't be running, but he'll live long enough to talk.

Making my way down, I ensure each body I pass won't be getting up again. The leader's screaming now, fumbling for his weapon. I'm faster. One more shot disarms him, and he's left bleeding and defenseless.

"Who sent you?" I ask, my voice cold.

He shakes his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."