Page 14 of The Mafia's Second Shot

Marco meets me near the front door, his face grim. “They’ve breached the outer gate. We’ve got about a dozen hostiles, heavily armed. Rossi’s men, by the look of it.”

“Status?” I ask, my tone clipped.

“We’ve got them contained for now, but it’s messy,” he says. “Two of ours are down. Another’s wounded.”

I grit my teeth, anger curling in my chest. “Any sign of Rossi?”

Marco shakes his head. “Not yet. But he’s here. I’d bet my life on it.”

I nod, my mind racing as I assess the situation. We’re outnumbered, but my men are better trained. If we can hold the line long enough, we’ll push them back. But then my thoughts drift to Zoey, and a fresh wave of urgency grips me.

“Double the detail on the main house,” I order. “I don’t want anyone getting within a hundred feet of her.”

Marco hesitates, his eyes narrowing. “You’re thinking about her when we’ve got a war on our hands?”

“She’s the reason they’re here,” I snap. “So, yes, I’m thinking about her. Now do as I say.”

Marco doesn’t argue. He turns and heads toward the front line, barking orders into his own earpiece. I move toward thestaircase, ready to head back to Zoey’s room and reinforce the door myself, when a flash of movement catches my eye.

Zoey.

She’s in the hall, crouched next to one of my injured men. Blood pools beneath him, staining the marble floor, and she’s pressing her hands to his side, trying to stop the bleeding. My heart lurches.

“Zoey!” I stride toward her, my voice sharp.

She looks up, her face pale but determined. “He’s hurt. I couldn’t just?—”

“I told you to stay in your room,” I growl, grabbing her arm and pulling her to her feet. “This isn’t your fight.”

“Then whose is it?” she snaps, her voice trembling with anger. “Because from where I’m standing, I’m already in it.”

Her words cut deep, but I don’t let it show. Instead, I motion for another man to take over for her. “Get him to the med room,” I order. “Now.”

As they move the injured man, I turn back to Zoey. Her defiance hasn’t wavered, but I can see the fear in her eyes. It’s not fear for herself—it’s fear for me, for the man she just tried to save. It’s fear she doesn’t want to admit she feels.

“You’re going back to your room,” I say firmly. “And this time, you’re locking the door.”

Before she can argue, a new sound splits the air—a crash, followed by rapid gunfire. My head snaps toward the source, and I instinctively pull Zoey behind me.

“They’re inside,” I mutter, my grip tightening on my gun. “Stay close.”

The fight spillsinto the main hall, the once-pristine space now a battleground. I move through the chaos with Zoey at my back, taking down two intruders with quick, precise shots. My men have the upper hand, but it’s clear Rossi’s people came prepared. They’re fighting with a desperation that only comes from knowing they have nothing to lose.

I round a corner and come face to face with one of the attackers. He’s younger than I expected, his face twisted with fury as he raises his weapon. I’m faster. My bullet finds its mark, and he drops to the floor, his gun skittering across the tiles.

I move to step over him, but his hand shoots out, grabbing my ankle. His grip is weak, his breath ragged, but his eyes burn with hatred.

“You think you can protect her forever?” he spits, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

I crouch down, pressing the barrel of my gun to his temple. “What do you know about her?” I demand.

“Everything,” he rasps. “You think Rossi’s the only one after her? You think your people are loyal?”

My blood runs cold. “What are you talking about?”

He laughs, the sound wet and gurgling. “Ask your men. Ask the ones who sold you out.”

Before I can press further, his body goes limp, his eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling. I stand, my mind racing with his words.

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