Chapter 10 - The Reaper Awakens
I didn't feel a shred of pity for the pathetic man trembling in my doorway. Marcus was a coward who beat pregnant women and sold them out to save his own skin. He was the reason Harper was grieving.
"She's out of your reach, you piece of filth," I growled, stepping out from behind the kitchen island, my weapon aimed directly at his chest.
Marcus raised his pistol, his hands shaking so violently he could barely keep it level. "I have to do this! I have to!"
He pulled the trigger. The bullet went wide, shattering a ceramic vase a foot to my left.
I didn't miss. I fired a single, precise shot. The bullet tore through Marcus’s kneecap. He screamed, collapsing to the floor in a pathetic heap, dropping his weapon.
"That was for the baby you killed," I said coldly, walking toward him.
Before I could finish him, a flashbang grenade was tossed through the shattered window. I dove behind the heavy oak dining table just as it detonated, blinding white light and a deafening ringing consuming my senses.
Mercenaries breached the cabin from both the front and the back doors simultaneously. My vision was swimming, but my mafia instincts took over. I drew my twin tactical pistols from their holsters.
I rolled out from cover and unleashed hell. I moved with the terrifying precision of a reaper, placing two rounds in the chest of every man who stepped through the threshold. Blood painted the rustic walls of my sanctuary. The air grew thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and copper.
Within sixty seconds, seven mercenaries lay dead on the floor of my cabin.
I reloaded my pistols, stepping over Marcus’s whimpering body, and kicked the front door wide open. I stepped out onto the porch, completely exposed, my weapons raised, daring the rest of them to challenge the king of the underworld.
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But the clearing was silent. The remaining SUVs were empty. Vincenzo, realizing his vanguard had just been slaughtered, had cowardly retreated back down the mountain, leaving his men to die.
I lowered my weapons, breathing heavily, the adrenaline slowly receding. I had won the battle, but the war was far from over.
