Chapter Twenty-Eight

Dexter

The Russo home, Bel Air…

“Jesus, they brought an entire Phantom Syndicate army,” Axel grumbled softly from where they were hiding behind a large California Golden bush to the side of the Russo mansion.

Through the dense foliage of century-old oak trees, the Russo mansion loomed against the darkening sky like an illuminated fortress. Mediterranean architecture melded with modern security features. Elegant arched windows were fitted with bulletproof glass, ornate balconies doubled as sniper positions, and decorative wall sconces concealed surveillance cameras. Warm light spilled from nearly every window of the three-story structure, creating deceptively welcoming pools of gold on the manicured lawn.

“These guys are too good to be regular security.” Dexter cataloged the guards’ positions with cold precision. “They moved with military efficiency. I’ll bet my last dollar they’re mercenaries and professionals who’ve seen real combat.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Max said in a quiet tone.

Three-man teams patrolled in coordinated patterns, maintaining overlapping fields of fire. Their weapons—modified MP5s with suppressors—spoke of serious hardware and grave intent.

“I suppose Theo switching his loyalty back to his own family put a spanner in the works for Hampton,” Dexter observed, tracking a guard team’s movement past a marble fountain. “Fuck me. It’s two against one.”

“More like three by my count,” Jax countered quietly. “What do you think, Max? You’re the military strategist. How do we eliminate the perimeter and get inside? The intel Rex sent us on The Dark Lord and the Phantom Syndicate made my toes curl. Whatever he has planned is going to be painful and could very well end in a bloodbath by the time the Russo boys get here.”

“We’re not going to hang around waiting on them,” Dexter said harshly. “So, Max. What do you suggest?”

Max’s assessment was quick and grim. “Nine guards visible on this side, front and back. Safe to assume another nine on the far side—eighteen total. They’re running three-man teams. We’ve got five shooters. Math isn’t in our favor.”

“So, each of us gets to dance with three highly trained killing machines,” Rex said dourly. “Please tell me you secretly invited Sergeant Major Camden and his recovery team as well, Max.”

“Just us party people,” Axel muttered under his breath. “And here I thought my Saturday nights couldn’t get more exciting than competitive chess.”

“Dex made it abundantly clear that no Feds or police can be involved,” Max responded. “I don’t happen to agree. They’re all fucking criminals and should pay for the choices they made, but—”

“I’m not going to be the one putting her family behind bars, Max. She’d never forgive me,” Dexter cut in with self-recrimination heavy in his voice for making a choice that was in direct conflict with his morals and honor of what was right and wrong.

“As I was going to say, I understand your reasoning. Just a fair warning, my friend. Whatever path the two of you wish to walk in the future, know this… they will always be like the dark shadows of a nightmare that you can never run away from. I believe it’s a lesson Violet learned very recently. She’d been free from being drawn into their fucked-up existence for fifteen years and look what it brought her. That’s never going to change, Dex.”

Dexter’s jaw clenched as he surveyed the group. “I’m aware of that, Max, but ultimately, this has to be Violet’s choice.” His gaze swept across their stern faces, noting the underlying tension. “I know this goes against everything you stand for, and I appreciate your support. Christ, I’m still wrestling with redirecting The World Bank’s investigation to Hampton.”

“You didn’t redirect it without cause,” Rex’s voice carried the force of conviction. “Yes, the Russos run L.A.’s underground, but they weren’t behind what you were investigating. You simply pointed the law where it needed to go.”

Axel leaned forward with a grave expression. “And let’s be realistic. If the Feds have any competence, that little breadcrumb about the Russos being more than vineyard owners will eventually lead somewhere. This might resolve itself without either of you having to make that call about Violet’s family.”

“First things first,” Jax interrupted, spreading out a rough sketch of the property. “We need to neutralize those guards without raising alarms. Eighteen men, six teams of three.”

Dexter studied the layout, his mind already formulating a plan. The darkness would provide cover, and timing would be crucial. The teams were positioned predictably. Two at the front corners, two at the back corners of the massive estate and one on either side of the house.

“We go in silent,” Max said, outlining his strategy. “I’ll take the northwest corner from the oak’s vantage point. Rex and Axel, you handle the two teams on the side borders, while Jax and Dex will take the southern positions. We move simultaneously.”

Dexter took over and detailed the execution. “Tranquilizer darts for distance shots. For close encounters, we use throat strikes and blood chokes—quick, quiet, and non-lethal. They’ll be out for hours but will survive. We’ll need to move the bodies into the surrounding bushes, out of sight lines.” He studied the team. “Shoot to kill only if your own life is in danger. You know how I feel about that.”

“As we all do,” Rex agreed.

“The timing has to be perfect,” Max added. “We coordinate through our earpieces. On my mark, we take them all down within a thirty-second window. Any longer risks discovery.”

“Once they’re down, we enter through the back service entrance,” Dexter concluded. “The front guards stay in place because we need everything to look normal when Kozlov arrives with the Russos.”

“I like it,” Jax interjected. “A clean, efficient execution that won’t raise immediate alarms and threaten Violet’s life.”

“We have a small window of opportunity before anyone realizes something is wrong, and hopefully, we’ll have Violet out of here before Kozlov and his men arrive.”

“Time’s a wastin’,” Axel said as he checked his weapons. “Let’s get this shitshow on the road.”

In the shadows of the estate, the five men moved like ghosts, keeping low as they tracked their targets.

Dexter hunched low as he approached the group of three on the one south corner. The guards’ cigarette embers glowed, making them easy marks. ‘ Amateur move ,’ Dexter thought, noting how the men’s attention was split between smoking and scrolling on their phones.

Through his earpiece, he heard Max’s measured breathing. “Get ready. We go… NOW!” His instruction was followed by soft thuds, and seconds later, he confirmed in a deep voice, “Three down,” followed by Rex’s whispered, “Far side clear.”

Dexter fired two successive tranq shots, and two guards dropped like bricks. Then he struck like a cobra with his arm wrapping around the third guard’s throat in a precise blood choke. The cigarette dropped, extinguishing in the wet grass as his struggles weakened. “Sweet dreams,” Dexter murmured once he finished dragging their bodies into the bushes. “South side clear.”

Scanning the perimeter, he caught glimpses of the team hiding their targets in the brush as well. Jax gave a subtle hand signal. All was clear on his end.

“Good fucking job, everyone,” Dexter said as they regrouped at the service entrance at the back.

“Yep, twelve down. We have a clean sweep,” Max reported in a whisper.

“Let’s get this done,” Axel said as he picked the lock while Rex and Jax covered their six. The kitchen door opened without a sound.

“Fuck,” Dexter cursed as two guards making coffee in the kitchen turned to them in surprise. One reached for his weapon.

“Well, well,” Axel drawled softly with his tranq gun already raised. “Midnight snack boys? Let me help you with that nap you’re about to take.”

Pfft. Pfft. Two darts, two bodies slumping to the floor.

“Really? Dad jokes while taking out guards?” Dexter muttered, helping him to drag the men into the pantry.

“Come on, admit it. My dad jokes are wicked.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” Rex said with a chuckle.

They were moving down the hallway when voices erupted from the front door.

“Get your fucking hands off me, you Russian piece of shit!” Tag Russo’s deep, guttural voice carried clearly to where they were pressed against the wall beside the staircase.

“Shut your mouth, big boy,” Kozlov growled, shoving him forward. “Your father’s empire falls tonight, starting with you and your brothers.”

“You clearly have no idea who you’re dealing with,” Leo Russo spat angrily as he shook off one of the bulky guards.

“Is that supposed to make us quiver in our boots?” Kozlov taunted him. “You’re the one who has no fucking clue, fuckface.” He shoved Tag again.

“You’re gonna fucking pay for this,” Theo sneered as he punched the guard in the gut who was attempting to keep him under control.

“Do you need help with the widget?” Gustav Kozlov mocked the giant man as he grabbed the younger and much smaller man in a chokehold. “Now, get a fucking move on. The study awaits.”

“Fucking shit,” Dexter whispered urgently. “We just lost the benefit of surprise.”

“No, we didn’t. They don’t know we’re here,” Max said. “Quiet and quick are still our best weapons. When the shit hits the fan, don’t hesitate to shoot. Those guys in there aren’t going to play nice.”

“For once, I agree with you,” Dexter said grimly.

Violet

The Russo home, Bel Air…

“Get the fuck in there!” The voice growling out the order was followed by her three brothers being shoved into the room by three Goliath-sized bodyguards. Violet’s relief at seeing them alive was short-lived, as the largest of the two didn’t hesitate to strike Leo against the skull with the butt of his gun when he turned on him.

Now, more than before, the power shifted in the room. Her brothers might all be expert street fighters, but they were no match for the weapons the five men facing the Russo family carried.

“Ah, now look at that… the entire Russo clan in one big cage… ready to be slaughtered.”

Violet turned to look at Rick Hampton. She hated that pearly white smile he constantly flashed around. Like he was untouchable, the ultimate power that no one would dare oppose.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Xavier. Just take that gag off the bitch,” he said when he caught her watching him. “I’d much rather listen to her screams of pain and terror than look at those puppy eyes begging to be saved.”

“Thank fuck,” Violet said under her breath as she moved her jaw around when Xavier removed the gag. Her mouth was dry and felt like she had swallowed an entire bucket of sand.

“No,” Xavier said with relish, preempting the request she was about to make. “You can’t have water.”

“You’re sadly mistaken if you believe your idle threats scare any of us, Hampton. You’ve wasted enough time,” George interjected angrily. Violet noticed the relief in his eyes when Leo groaned as he sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “Spit it out. What the fuck do you want?”

“Revenge, vengeance, to make right a wrong… take your pick, but before the sun rises a few hours from now, this room is going to run red with the blood of your wife and children.” Hampton bellowed out a laugh. “And I will laugh at their screams and revel in your misery when all you can do is watch and feel the guilt of your father upon your shoulders.”

“You’re talking in riddles. Just fucking spit it out,” Tag snapped.

Violet prayed that he held onto his patience since he was the one whose irritation morphed into fury within a second. Should he try anything, she feared the next time, the big Russian wouldn’t be as kind as he was with Leo.

“For years, I’ve been searching for the Russo clan who was responsible for my father’s death. Your family wasn’t even on my radar. I mean, since you run such a reputable vineyard.” Hampton paced in front of George’s desk, relishing in his tale. “Imagine my surprise two years ago when your trusted right-hand man approached me to join my ranks. Oh, the tales he told, and when I finally realized just who you were… I started making plans.” He smirked as he gestured at Theo.

“This little pup wasn’t a random selection. I took my time reining him in. Ah, it was so satisfying to see him turn against his own family.” He shot a glare at Violet. “I just never realized how strongly he still felt about protecting the women in your family. That is a mistake that cost me since now I won’t have the satisfaction of watching you and your entire family rot behind bars for the rest of your lives. Ah, well.” He shrugged. “You win some, you lose some, but then you pivot, and you regroup.”

“And your brilliant pivot is to slaughter my entire family,” George said drily. “God, you’re so tedious. Get to the fucking point, Hampton. This clearly has nothing to do with me, so what kind of satisfaction is killing any of us going to bring you?”

Crack ! The sound of Hampton’s fist connecting with George’s jaw sounded like a gunshot through the room. His head turned from the vicious hit, and blood splattered all over the desk like red carnations in bloom on the white papers scattered on the surface.

“I’m not after satisfaction. I told you, I’m avenging my father’s death.” His face grew even darker. “Ever heard of Fred Hampton from Chicago? An American civil rights leader and deputy chairman of the Black Panther Party’s Illinois chapter. He was behind the brilliance of Chicago’s first ‘Rainbow Coalition.’” He leaned forward and spat in George’s face. “He was my father, and I never got to know him because your fucking father couldn’t stand that there was someone else who got more accolades than him.”

George frowned. “Get to the point. I never met your father.”

“You wouldn’t have since you were only eight years old when he died… or rather when he was killed during a raid in 1969.” His lips curled derisively. “Tiber Russo had to destroy anyone who threatened his territory, even a man whose only aim was to build a better world for his people. My father had no connection with any syndicate or mafia group. All he wanted was for Black people to be respected and offered the same opportunities as everyone else. Tiber Russo was the one who had paid those cops to make sure Fred Hampton didn’t survive the raid. Do you wanna know how, George?”

“I’m sure you’re about to inform me.” Violet bit her lip at her father’s insensitivity and the way he continued to mock the giant Dark Lord.

“My father was asleep while my mother, pregnant with me at the time, tried to defend him. In the end, it didn’t matter since he never woke up. Two cops shot him… in his sleep… because your father paid them to do it.”

“So, now you turn your vengeance on me? On my family? We’re innocent, just as much as you were inside your mother’s womb at the time.”

“You’re no fucking innocent! You’re a mafia Don.”

“Of white-collar crime, Hampton. We don’t murder and maim.”

“Ah, well, you know what the Bible says… ‘the sins of the fathers are visited upon the children.’ I grew up with the grief and hatred my mother bore because she stood witness to her husband being killed senselessly. I was born in jail and grew up in poverty because my mother was in prison for years. When she eventually came out, her bitterness became a festering boil inside me, and I swore to make the Russos suffer like she did, and I was forced to as a result. So, Lucky Russo, you will stay alive, and for the rest of your life, you’ll bear the guilt of not being able to keep your family from harm.”

Hampton’s deadly eyes swept the room. Violet was riveted by how his massive frame cast shadows across the heavy furniture.

“Now, the question is... who is first?” His lips twisted into a cruel smile as he pointed at Violet. “Let’s start with the young bitch, Scrooge.”

Sophia launched herself forward with a cry of desperate fury. “NO! Don’t you dare touch my daughter!” Her shoulder connected with Kozlov’s midsection. The impact made him grunt but barely moved him.

“Mom!” Violet screamed as Kozlov tossed her mother back onto the sofa like she was a pesky fly.