Page 4 of Mafia Kingdom

He stops at the top of the basement stairs, turning to face me. "Trust me, this is worth the risk; I’m sure of it."

We descend into the dimly lit basement, the air growing colder with each step. Danny reaches for a switch on the wall, and a series of dim lights flicker on, revealing a maze of crates and boxes.

"What is all this?" I ask, trying to make sense of the chaotic scene.

Danny walks over to one of the crates and pries it open, revealing a stash of weapons. "Our ticket to the big leagues, Marco. This job isn’t just big; it’s massive."

I run a hand through my hair, trying to process everything. "And what exactly is the job?" What would our father want with this amount of weapons? We trade in the black market, but this shipment is large. I pry open a second grate to find more guns, rifles this time—sniper rifles.

"They are hitting back at another gang that’s been trying to take our territory,” Danny answers.

But, that doesn't make sense. Dad isn’t the kind of man to start a war. He plays politics if anyone tries to step into our territory, or he cuts off the head of a snake before it can strike.

“I’m assuming you got a truck out back?” I ask Danny, just wanting to get these guns back to base so I can find out what the fuck our dad is doing.

Danny grins. “The best kind; wait until you see this bad boy.”

We go upstairs and make it into the open room. My ears ring from the sudden noise. Danny collapses, a crimson stain spreading across his chest, his body clattering to the ground and rolling away.

I drop to my knees beside him, my heart pounding. "Danny! Stay with me," I shout, pressing my hands against his wound. The light in his eyes is already growing distant.

Blood seeps through my fingers, warm and sticky, contrasting sharply with the cold floor beneath us. Panic threatens to overtake me, but I force myself to stay focused. I need to get help.

A second bang echoes, and I feel a sharp pain in my shoulder. I fall backward, clutching my shoulder, trying to distinguish where the shots are coming from.

As darkness begins to swallow me, I know my only hope is to keep alert. I roll slightly and pull my gun from my waistband. I can’t see anyone, but send shots flying in the direction I think the shooter may be.I let off three and wait to hear if any shots are fired back. None come.

I fumble for my phone, my fingers slick with Danny’s blood. My hands shake as I swipe the screen, trying to make the call. I call Mike, another member of our Mafia, hoping he's nearby and can help.

"Mike, we’ve been hit. Danny’s down. I need you here, now," I bark into the phone, my voice trembling despite my efforts to stay calm. I’m normally calm in these kinds of situations. But, I’ve never had to watch one of my brothers bleed out.

"On my way," Mike replies, his voice tense, a sharp contrast to his usual laid-back tone.

I hang up and turn my attention back to Danny. His breathing is shallow, and his eyes are unfocused. I keep applying pressure to his wound, trying to ignore the growing pool of blood around us. The minutes stretch on interminably, each second feeling like an eternity. I keep my gun steady in my hand, ready to fire.

Finally, the sound of hurried footsteps reaches my ears. I point my gun at the door and lower it when Mike bursts through the door, his recently shaved head catching the light. He's followed closely by our family doctor, Brian, his bag clinking with the tools of his trade. They work quickly, lifting Danny onto a makeshift stretcher. The doctor’s hands move deftly, securing Danny and preparing him for the rush to safety.

"Get him to the hospital. I’ll handle things here," I instruct, my voice firm despite the chaos swirling around me.

Mike nods. “A few more men are on their way. Are you sure you won’t come with us and get that wound looked at?”

“No, just go.”

They rush Danny out, leaving me alone with the guns and a mess to clean up. I stand, but a wave of dizziness nearly takes me to my knees. I keep my gun in my hand and wipe my other blood-soaked hand on my trousers before walking to the window. Lights from cars illuminate the room. I know it’s my men. A sniper wouldn’t make his presence so known. I think the sniper is long gone; he hadn’t returned fire early, and Danny and Mike, with the doctor, had left without any trouble.

The door opensa second time, and Tony and two other recruits enter.

“Be careful; we have a sniper. I think he’s gone, but we need to sweep the area outside.” They don’t question my command but file outside.

A window to my right was open, and we were standing across from it; that’s why no glass shattered; the shooter had aclear path to fire at us. He was very skilled to have made a shot like that through such a small gap.I grab one of the flashlights on the table and head outside in the direction of where I think the shooter was. I keep my gun steady above the flashlight in case I need to fire.

The surrounding area is dense with trees, their branches casting long, menacing shadows.

Tony walks into my line of sight and, without a word, falls into step beside me. Our two beams of light danced along the overgrowth.

"Stay sharp," I whisper.

We comb through the area, our flashlights sweeping through the trees. Each rustle of leaves makes my heart race, the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

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