Chapter 16
2135 Words
The chaos of the raid begins as the transport vehicles screech to a halt outside the looming warehouse. The recruits file out, their faces painted with a mix of nerves and determination. Floodlights pierce the darkness, casting harsh shadows across the cracked asphalt. Ziana Montana stands at the forefront, her hazel eyes scanning the scene with razor-sharp focus.
"Stick to your squads," she barks, her voice cutting through the murmurs of the recruits. "No one moves without my signal. And for the love of all that’s holy, don’t try to play hero."
Behind her, Mickey Morningstar smirks, his dark eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and unease. "Define ‘hero,’ boss lady. Asking for a friend."
Ziana shoots him a glare that could level a building. "Hero, as in the first i***t to get himself shot. Got it?"
Mickey raises his hands in mock surrender. "Crystal clear. I’ll try to keep my heroic tendencies in check."
The recruits suppress nervous chuckles, but Ziana doesn’t break her stride. She signals the group forward, leading them toward the warehouse.
---
The air inside the warehouse is thick with tension, the silence pressing against their ears like a living thing. The recruits move in formation, their weapons raised, every step deliberate. Ziana takes point, her movements fluid and precise, while Mickey hangs back, his sharp gaze flicking between shadows.
He spots them before anyone else does—Lupi Di Sangue’s enforcers, crouched behind stacks of crates, their weapons glinting in the dim light. Mickey’s stomach twists. These aren’t just faceless Mafia thugs; some of them are his men, planted here to keep tabs on the Blood Wolves.
"Contacts!" someone shouts, and the world explodes.
Gunfire erupts, a cacophony of chaos that drowns out everything else. The recruits scatter, taking cover wherever they can. Ziana ducks behind a steel beam, her weapon drawn, barking orders to her squad.
Mickey moves with practiced ease, his actions a careful dance between helping the recruits and ensuring none of Lupi Di Sangue’s men fall by his hand. He fires a few well-aimed shots, purposefully missing his targets by inches.
Ziana notices.
"Morningstar!" she shouts over the din, her tone sharp and accusing. "What the hell are you doing? You couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn!"
"Maybe I’m just warming up!" Mickey calls back, ducking as a bullet zips past his ear. "Give me a minute, Red!"
She doesn’t have time to argue. The enforcers are regrouping, pushing back against the recruits with alarming coordination.
Mickey spots one of his men, a tall, wiry enforcer named Matteo, aiming at Ziana from the shadows. His heart clenches. Matteo’s finger tightens on the trigger, and Mickey reacts instinctively.
"Ziana, down!" he shouts, lunging forward and pulling her to the ground just as the bullet whizzes past where her head had been.
Ziana blinks up at him, her expression a mix of shock and suspicion. "What the hell was that?"
"Saving your life," Mickey replies smoothly, offering a hand to help her up. "You’re welcome, by the way."
She slaps his hand away, getting up on her own. "Don’t get cocky, Morningstar. And don’t call me Ziana."
"Whatever you say, ma’am," he quips, but his smirk fades as his gaze shifts back to Matteo, who has disappeared into the fray.
---
The battle rages on, the recruits and enforcers locked in a deadly game of cat and mouse. Mickey stays close to Ziana, his every move calculated. He takes down a few enforcers with non-lethal shots, his aim precise.
Ziana notices again.
"You’re not even trying to kill them," she accuses, her hazel eyes narrowing.
Mickey shrugs, reloading his weapon. "Maybe I’m just a humanitarian at heart."
She glares at him but doesn’t press further. There’s no time.
---
As they push deeper into the warehouse, they come across a secured room filled with files and computer equipment.
"This is it," Ziana says, motioning for her squad to breach the door.
Mickey hangs back, his heart pounding. This room likely contains information that could expose I Cobra Mortali’s connections to Lupi Di Sangue.
"Morningstar, cover the entrance," Ziana orders, her tone leaving no room for argument.
He nods, taking up position by the door. As the squad moves inside, Mickey pulls out his phone, typing a quick message to Axel:
“Abort deal. Burn everything. Now.”
---
The next wave of enforcers hits hard, their numbers overwhelming. Ziana’s squad is pinned down, their ammo running low.
"We’re sitting ducks here!" one recruit shouts, panic creeping into his voice.
"Hold the line!" Ziana snaps, her voice steady despite the chaos.
Mickey steps up beside her, his jaw set. "Got a plan, Red?"
"Working on it," she mutters, firing another shot.
"Great," Mickey says dryly. "I’ll just be here, heroically not dying."
---
The enforcers fall back suddenly, their retreat too orderly to be a rout. Mickey’s stomach sinks.
"This isn’t over," he says under his breath.
Ziana shoots him a wary glance. "What makes you so sure?"
Before he can answer, his phone buzzes again. He glances at the screen and his blood runs cold.
Tick tock, Morningstar. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?
Attached is a photo of Ziana, taken just moments ago.
"Mickey," Ziana’s voice cuts through his rising panic. "What’s going on?"
He shoves the phone back into his pocket, forcing a smirk. "Nothing you need to worry about, boss lady."
But as the recruits regroup, Mickey’s mind races. Someone’s watching. Someone who knows too much.
And the game he’s playing is about to get a whole lot more dangerous.
---
The chapter ends with a low growl of an approaching engine. A convoy of black SUVs pulls up outside the warehouse, their windows tinted and foreboding.
Ziana stiffens, her weapon raising instinctively. "What now?"
Mickey’s heart sinks as he recognizes the vehicles.
Lupi Di Sangue has arrived.
And they’re not here to negotiate.
Ziana crouches behind a stack of crates, her heart pounding in sync with the chaos erupting around her. Bullets ricochet off the metal walls, and the air smells of gunpowder and adrenaline.
She peers around the corner, her hazel eyes sharp and calculating. The Mafia enforcers are well-positioned, their firepower forcing her squad to take cover.
“Morningstar!” she barks, glancing over her shoulder. “I told you to cover me!”
Mickey leans casually against a crate a few feet away, his rifle slung over his shoulder, a smug grin plastered on his face. “You looked like you had it handled, Red.”
Her jaw tightens. “If you don’t start shooting, I swear—”
“Relax,” he interrupts, c*****g his weapon with an exaggerated flourish. “I’m just savoring the moment. Nothing like a little live fire to spice up a boring evening.”
Ziana doesn’t have time for his antics. She rolls her eyes, muttering a string of curses under her breath, and focuses on the task at hand.
She signals to the rest of the team, her hand slicing through the air. “Flank left! We need to clear a path to the main office!”
Mickey follows her gaze to the second-floor catwalk where a group of enforcers is raining down suppressing fire. “That’s ambitious,” he comments, firing off a few rounds. “You know they’re probably sitting on a stockpile of grenades up there, right?”
Ziana doesn’t dignify his remark with a response. Instead, she pulls the pin on a smoke grenade and hurls it toward the catwalk. The room fills with a thick, gray haze, giving her team a chance to advance.
“Move!” she shouts, leading the charge.
Mickey falls into step beside her, his demeanor unusually tense despite his flippant tone. “You’re really gung-ho about this, huh? Remind me to put you up for a medal when we’re done.”
“Shut up and keep moving,” she snaps, her focus razor-sharp.
---
The squad reaches the staircase leading to the catwalk. Ziana gestures for two recruits to cover the rear while she and Mickey ascend. The metal steps groan under their weight, and her grip tightens on her weapon.
They emerge onto the catwalk, the smoke starting to dissipate. Two enforcers spot them immediately, raising their weapons.
Ziana fires first, her shots precise and lethal. One man drops, clutching his shoulder, while the other dives for cover.
“Nice shot,” Mickey comments, taking down another enforcer with a single round.
“Focus,” Ziana replies curtly.
She pushes forward, her boots thudding against the grated floor. Mickey stays close, his movements fluid and practiced. She can’t deny he’s good—too good for someone who claims to be a new recruit.
Her instincts tingle, but she doesn’t have time to dwell on it. They reach the main office, its door reinforced with heavy steel.
“Breaching charge,” she orders, stepping aside to let Mickey plant the device.
He works quickly, his hands steady despite the chaos around them.
“Ready?” he asks, stepping back once the charge is in place.
Ziana nods, raising her weapon.
The explosion rips through the door, sending shards of metal flying. Smoke billows into the room, and Ziana moves in, her finger on the trigger.
Inside, the scene is chaotic. Papers and monitors are scattered across the floor, and two enforcers are scrambling to arm themselves.
Ziana takes them down without hesitation, her movements efficient and precise.
“Clear!” she calls out.
Mickey steps in behind her, his gaze sweeping the room. He moves to the desk, rummaging through the files.
“Looking for something specific?” Ziana asks, her tone edged with suspicion.
“Just being thorough,” he replies, pocketing a folder before she can get a good look at it.
Before she can press him, a shout echoes from the lower level.
“Commander, we’ve got reinforcements inbound!”
Ziana’s stomach drops. Reinforcements mean more bloodshed—and more bodies to deal with.
“We need to wrap this up,” she says, heading for the door.
---
As they regroup with the rest of the squad, the sound of vehicles screeching to a halt outside reaches her ears.
“s**t,” Mickey mutters, his smirk finally fading.
Ziana glances at him, surprised by the genuine concern in his eyes.
“Got any bright ideas, Morningstar?” she asks, her voice tight.
He hesitates, his gaze darting toward the side exit. “We need to split up. Half the squad holds the front while the rest of us secure an escape route.”
Ziana narrows her eyes. “And let you play hero? Not a chance.”
“Trust me,” he says, his tone unusually serious. “I’ve got this.”
She doesn’t trust him—not fully—but the urgency of the situation leaves her no choice.
“Fine,” she relents. “But if you screw this up, I’ll kill you myself.”
“Deal,” he says with a grin, before disappearing into the shadows.
---
Minutes later, Ziana is pinned down near the front entrance, the gunfire deafening. She fires off another round, her jaw clenched as she tries to keep her squad together.
“Where the hell is Morningstar?” she mutters, frustration bubbling to the surface.
Before she can dwell on it, an explosion rocks the building, sending debris raining down.
She looks toward the side exit just in time to see Mickey emerge, leading a group of recruits through the smoke.
“Move, move, move!” he shouts, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Relief washes over her, but it’s short-lived. As the last of the recruits make it out, Mickey glances back toward the warehouse, his expression conflicted.
“What are you doing?” Ziana yells. “Get out of there!”
For a moment, he hesitates, his gaze flickering toward the second-floor office.
Then, without a word, he turns and disappears back into the building.
Ziana’s heart stops.
“Morningstar!” she screams, but it’s too late.
The flames consume the warehouse, and Mickey is nowhere to be seen.
---
Outside, the squad regroups, their faces pale and shaken.
Ziana stands at the edge of the chaos, her fists clenched as she stares at the burning building.
“He’s gone,” someone whispers behind her.
“No,” she says, her voice firm despite the lump in her throat. “Not yet.”
Because she knows Mickey Morningstar. And if there’s one thing she's noticed about him, all those times he kept being a pain in her ass, it’s surviving.
But as the flames crackle and the sirens wail in the distance, doubt creeps into her mind.
What if this time, he didn’t?
- Writer
