Prologue

PROLOGUE

TYPHON

T here was only one person the dons of the two most powerful mafia families in Italy wanted dead more than each other: the man they were torturing within an inch of his life—me.

They'd captured me thirty-six hours ago, and in that time, I'd refused to divulge a fucking thing. As far as what I'd admit to the two men and their goons, I was a hired gun and nothing more.

I was taken hostage shortly after Gerlando Battaglia, also known as Macellaio, the head of the Sicilian Syndicate, put a kill order in for Valerio Scaglione, also known as Prince and the head of the Calabrian Syndicate. Then Prince had issued the same on Macellaio. While there were other hit men they could've contracted, and probably had, both men called upon me to take out the other. When the orders arrived in such close succession, I wondered about their validity, but I could hardly question either of them.

Infiltrating both syndicates by going undercover as a contract assassin meant I walked the thinnest of lines. As the commander of the UK's most elite and deadly team, Unit 23, I'd assigned myself the task I knew was fraught with more danger than any other mission I'd undertaken in my career.

That it came in the wake of me falling head-over-heels in love was, in a word, tragic.

I'd sworn, vowed, given my oath to die not just for my country, but for freedom throughout the world. When my time came—which may be within a few hours—I prayed I could show the same courage and bravery the man I considered my mentor had when he died in action.

I kept my head down and eyes closed, feigning sleep—not that it would stop them—when I heard the now-familiar sound of a creaking door opening. It meant my captors had returned with yet another instrument of torture designed to make me succumb and confess all I never would, regardless of what they did to me.

My head sprang up, and my eyes opened wide when what I heard instead of their jeers was gunfire. Several rounds of it.