Page 32 of King of Omen

‘Hang in, boss. I’m getting us the hell out of here.’

I concentrated on breathing, my heart pounding in my chest. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I braced myself against the seat, trying to make sense of the sudden attack.

‘Who the fuck dares to target us like this in broad daylight?’ I murmured.

By now, Mauri had engaged the in-car display and made a series of calls.

When he roared round a corner, three Calibrese SUVs appeared, guns blazing from their vehicles, targeting the gunmen who’d been tearing after us.

In seconds, we were engulfed in a chaotic symphony of gunfire, the deafening blasts echoing through the narrow streets of Napoli.

Our security cordon formed a protective shield around us, and our high-threat-trained squad of guards fired back at our assailants with precision and deadly accuracy.

The already volatile city was transformed into a battlefield, with bullets flying and bystanders fleeing in terror as the sounds of sirens grew louder in the distance.

We pulled away from the madness as our men beat back the attackers.

Hit with relief and a healthy dose of disbelief, I leaned forward to Mauri.

Blood covered one side of his face, which he was wiping away as he flung about the gears.

‘You hit?’

‘No,’ he rasped. ‘Just glass from the blow-in.’

I sat back and let him do his thing, thankful for his quick thinking and decisive driving that had saved us from what could have been a fatal ambush.

As the gunfire subsided and the smoke cleared, Mauri manoeuvred the SUV out of the line of fire, joining the Calibrese convoy as they flanked us to safety.

We raced back towards my home, wheels screaming, blasting through red lights, getting the hell out of the fucked up situation as fast as possible while minimising any civilian impact.

Minutes later, we were back at my villa.

The three-vehicle cordon skidded to a stop in the driveway.

Mauri came to a screeching halt, leapt out and came to my door.

Yanking it ajar, he pulled me out.

I pushed him away. ‘I’m OK.’

‘The fuck you’re not,’ he gritted, ripping my suit jacket open to reveal my entire left side, my arm and below the breastbone covered in blood.

I swayed, and he caught me.

‘Dammit, Mauri,’ I muttered through clenched teeth, dizziness threatening to overwhelm me as he supported my weight.

The pain was a sharp, biting sensation radiating through my rib cage, each breath a struggle against the agony pulsing through me.

Mauri’s expression was clouded with concern and urgency as he half carried me into the calm sanctuary, a stark juxtaposition to the chaos we had just escaped.

I tagged the commotion outside from my staff, voices raised in alarm and disbelief at the sudden assault.

Mauri dragged me to the living room, settling me onto the plush sofa before disappearing, only to return with a first aid kit.

The adrenaline that had fuelled me through the attack began to ebb, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness and throbbing agony threatening to pull me under. I stared in silence as Mauri assessed my injuries.

‘The bullet missed your heart, spared by this.’

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