Page 53 of Angelo's Vengeance

I texted Bacco and Remo to update them, leaving it to Bacco to assemble a squad. It probably wasn’t necessary, but I didn’t want to take chances and discover that we didn’t have enough men.

The property was nestled deep in the woods of Long Island—the kind of place you had to know already existed to find it. No digital footprint. No paper trail. It wasn’t listed directly under Valentino Cardoni’s name, but it was his. Old money. Old secrets. Valentino had specified that this property had been in his family since his father’s days, when Carlotta was still around. The property was under his aunt’s maiden name, which was quite clever.

I had given Val a heads-up yesterday that we’d be checking this place out. He replied that we had carte blanche with what we found andhow we proceeded. I wouldn’t forget that. For all he knew, we were planning to blow the place up. Hell, Remo did bring enough C4 for that.

The house was set back behind twelve-foot stone walls, covered in creeping ivy and flanked by massive iron gates. Private security patrolled the perimeter—not the usual rent-a-cop types, either. These guys wore earpieces and moved with military precision. I clocked at least four snipers in the trees and another six guards at the front and rear entries.

Maxim, Ilias, Conall, and I crouched behind the treeline with our teams. Bacco and Remo had protested that they weren’t here, but I’d sent them to another Cardoni property outside of Jersey, which had been a bust. The air was cold, sharp with the tang of pine and damp earth. My gloved hands rested on the grip of my H&K. My pulse was steady.

“Looks like he’s been preparing,” Ilias muttered beside me, scanning the walls through a scope.

“Preparing to die if that fucker is in there,” Maxim growled.

Conall nodded at me. “Your call.”

“Let’s go.” I gave the signal. This was one of my favorite moments— the feeling rightbefore the fight, just before we struck someone who was unaware we lurked nearby. My adrenaline surged, my heartbeat pounding, my friends at my back — it was thrilling every time.

Two of our men fired silencers at men who were stationed near the trees. The snipers were dropped without a sound. Another team took out the rear patrol. Then all hell broke loose.

We swarmed the gates, breaching with small charges that blew them open with a thunderous groan of twisted metal. I was the first through, my boots crunching gravel as we stormed the courtyard.

Gunfire erupted from the second floor. I dove behind a stone fountain, returning fire as Maxim's team flanked left. The bastards were entrenched, utilizing the balcony and upper windows for cover, but it wouldn’t save them.

"Suppressing!" Conall shouted, unloading a full clip.

I ran low along the wall, flung a flashbang through the main entrance, then barreled in after it exploded. The front hall was chaos—a guard staggered toward me, half-blinded. I dropped him with a shot to the throat. Another lunged with a knife. I spun, disarmedhim, and slammed his head into the marble wall.

Ilias followed behind me, with Kostas and Vaso. They were methodical, cold, and moved like a storm—no wasted motion, delivering clean headshots. The Anthakos brothers were a force I wouldn’t want to mess with, but I was glad we were on the same side.

"Clear the upper floor!" I barked into the comms.

We stormed the staircase. Maxim kicked in door after door. We found two more guards and a man who appeared to be a financier, attempting to delete files from a laptop. I shot the floor near him first. Then I turned the barrel to him.

"Where is he?"

"Gone, I don’t know, I swear?—"

I shot him in the leg. "Wrong answer."

"Basement! There's a panic room?—"

"Show me."

He limped down the hall, bleeding onto the wood floors. We followed a tight formation, weapons up. He led us to a nondescript door behind a wine rack in the kitchen. High-end shit. Climate-controlled.

"Biometric lock," he stammered, like thatwould stop us. This wasn’t the fucking movies where we needed some code breaker or a thumb print. Most walls were made just of 2x4s and crappy sheetrock.

Maxim didn’t wait. He shot him in the head and planted a charge on the doorframe. We ducked back as it exploded in a fireball of plaster and smoke. It was easy as pie to kick a hole big enough to walk through. Sure enough, Renzetti cowered inside. His toad-like appearance was immediately recognizable.

He was huddled in a corner, armed with a Uzi that it was obvious he didn’t know how to use. He opened fire immediately, but the live rounds pinged off the walls. I ducked, rolled, and flanked hard right. Conall tossed a flashbang. We moved in.

I shot him once in the shoulder, then a second time in the thigh to drop him. He screamed, dropped the weapon, and tried to crawl.

"You think you can burn my businesses? You think you can touch my family?" I growled.

He coughed up blood. "Your mother—she lied to you. She used us both."

"Where is she?"

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