Page 145 of The Underboss's Secret Twins

"Marco—you need—leave?—"

A chill rips down my spine. "Sofia, what? I can’t hear you."

More static, then broken words, her voice crackling like she’s struggling to get them out.

"…villa…rigged…explosives?—"

Everything stops.

I don’t breathe.

The world tilts, shifts, realigns into something worse. The fucking Lombardis weren’t just fighting to hold their ground. They were buying time.

"Say that again," I demand, my voice low, sharp.

The call drops.

A second of silence stretches impossibly long. Then rage and ice collide inside me in a violent storm.

"FUCK!"

I spin toward my men, barking the order before the thought has even fully formed. "RETREAT!NOW!"

Silva’s head snaps up. "Boss, what the fuck?—"

"The place is rigged!" I snarl, shoving my phone into my pocket. "Move,move—NOW!"

Understanding flashes in Silva’s eyes, and in an instant, the command ripples through the ranks. My men pivot, instincts kicking in as we abandon the assault, turning toward the way we came.

The Lombardis realize what’s happening.

And that’s when theyreallystart fighting.

Gunfire erupts from all directions, deafening in its intensity. They’ve been waiting for this. They wanted us to realize too late.

My men scramble for cover, ducking behind overturned furniture, firing back as the Lombardis press in, their bullets slicing through the air, ricocheting off stone walls.

I shove Silva forward. "Get them out!"

"What about you?"

I don’t answer.

I push forward instead, carving through the gunfire, covering my men as they start pulling back. My mind is a blur of calculations, exit routes, strategy.How much time do we have?Minutes? Seconds?Where are the charges?If I were Vittorio, where would I place them?

It doesn’t matter.

We have to move.

"Fall back!" I yell again, firing another round into the enemy line. A Lombardi soldier drops, his body folding like a marionette with its strings cut.

One by one, my men are making it out, but we’re boxed in, funneled by the layout of the villa, forced through corridors designed to slow us down.

We’re still too deep.

I scan the chaos, looking for another way?—

Then a deafeningboomshakes the walls.