Adriano
The city was silent, streets lying empty like they knew we were coming. Three convoys peeled away from the Caruso estate in different directions, each one with an assignment that would change everything: take the Costa brothers.
I rode with Dante. Our target was Marco, the eldest, the head since their father stepped back. He wasn’t old, barely mid-thirties, but he had the weight of someone who’d carried power too long already.
We killed the headlights two streets away. My men slipped out, cutters in hand. The villa was lit like a stage until the power cut, leaving the house drowned in shadow. Guards patrolled lazily along the gate, too sure of the truce that had held for years. They didn’t see the knives until it was too late. Two bodies folded into the hedges, blood soaking
