Chapter 3

ALESSIO

‘ A re you sure you don’t want backup?’ Mauri murmured to me, exchanging glances with my brother.

The three of us stood under the shadowed arch of Lorenzo’s expansive front door, surrounded by an inky night and the silver fall of moonlight.

I caught the concern in our consigliere’s eyes.

My seldom-seen weakness was always at the top of the pair’s minds.

I’d stopped seeing it as pity but as a sign of their heartfelt care.

I shook my head. ‘I need to do this alone. Less chance of drawing attention that way.’

Mauri nodded, yet a muscle ticked in his jaw. ‘Be careful and call us if it all goes tits up.’

‘Just get back in one piece,’ Lorenzo rumbled raw and timbred.

I clapped them on their shoulders with a tight smile before climbing into the driver’s seat.

‘Si riguardi,’ Lorenzo murmured through the window I was rolling down. ‘Stay well and be safe.’

I raised a chin in acknowledgment.

‘Bene,’ I growled, unable to shake the shiver of foreboding that flew through me.

Tilting my head to the moonless shadowed sky, I inhaled the clean air, touched the Defender’s ignition button, and the engine roared to life.

Mauri and I had packed all the off-roading gear I needed inside its generous storage cabin, from high-powered torches to an additional spare tire, petrol, camp swag, rations, weapons, and surveillance equipment.

I glanced at the pair backlit by the front porch light, ignoring the worry in their expressions, and rolled out of the driveway and into the dead of the night.

With a two-fingered Omertà salute aimed at both men, I lit out.

I navigated the empty streets of Sydney at 1 a.m., heading towards the Southern Tablelands.

The city’s lights faded behind me, replaced by an eerie glow in the sky against the roaming clouds, casting shadows across the desolate landscape. I cruised for hours, serenaded by the engine’s rumble.

The map directed me to turn off somewhere ahead of the sprawling regional city of Goulburn.

Deeper into the night and further from urban sprawl, I drove .

Soon, the bitumen thoroughfare gave way to dirt roads.

The outback terrain grew rougher, challenging my driving skills as I maneuvered through rugged trails and dense scrub.

As the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, I parked the SUV in a secluded spot and paused for a break.

Easing out of the car, I glanced up at a beaten trail that led deeper into the bush, twisting into darkness.

The air was crisp and fresh, with the scent of pine and earth. Birds chirped overhead, and a fresh breeze fluttered.

I chose a shrub close by for my release.

Midstream, I thought I detected a faint noise, but I wasn’t too sure.

All of a sudden, the hairs on the back of my neck stood.

I zipped up my trousers and reached for the Sig Sauer revolver in its holster at my hip.

My senses were ratcheting, and instinct told me I was not alone.

I scanned the area, my hand clenched around the butt of the Sig at my waist.

A rustling sounded, and four men emerged from the brush.

Their faces masked behind printed kerchiefs, their matted hair under greasy caps, and their weapons glinted in the sunlight.

‘Damn,’ I muttered to myself.

‘Hands where we can see them,’ the lead man growled.

I made a quick threat assessment and sighed, annoyed at not being more cautious.

I was outnumbered.

Resigning myself to fate, I stepped forward, raising my arms, my left holding onto my Sig Sauer.

‘Stay the fuck where you are,’ another snarled.

‘I don’t want any trouble,’ I stated, keeping calm, assessing the situation, and taking my time. The jokers exchanged glances, their body language tense and coiled for action.

The kerchiefs around their lower faces announced their affiliation—a bold logo of a cross with a skull over it.

Just my fuckin’ luck. It appeared I’d stumbled across a trio of country mafioso fucks in the wild.

One of the masked men advanced, his eyes glinting with malice behind the mask’s cover. ‘You’re in our territory, mate,’ his local Aussie-fied Italian accent thick, his tone laced with menace. ‘No one enters here without our say-so.’

I kept my gaze steady, attempting to diffuse the tension. ‘Didn’t see any boundary lines or fences.’

The group exchanged wary glances. The leader took a step closer, his firearm still trained on me. ‘Really with that shit? Then why the weapon?’ he declared.

I weighed my choices, aware that a misstep could edge to a dangerous confrontation. ‘Purely precautionary.’

‘Bullshit.’

Just then, a rock fell at the feet of the lead gangster.

My new acquaintances flinched and whipped around.

I did, too, brows flying at the unbelievable sight of a lithe figure with short dark hair on top of a nearby hilltop, a rifle in their hands .

Even from this far, I tagged their stance and multi-calibre long gun. Fuck, they weren’t here to play.

Unlike the clowns with me who demonstrated piss-poor gunmanship and shitty weapons discipline, pawing over their triggers like this was some paintball game zone.

They’d lots to learn from the unexpected late entrant to our gathering. Whose index finger was placed along the frame of their firearm, still as a rock in the wind.

Silence fell as we all took stock of the unusual standoff.

‘Back off, or we shoot him, and you,’ one of the jokers shouted out.

The sniper aimed.

Seconds later, the ground spat at the foot of the lead gunman.

A warning, a freakin’ well-targeted one.

The men flinched.

‘Fuck! It’s her,’ one of them breathed.

I raised a brow and glanced at the rise.

My lips twisted.

It was her .

‘You’ve got to be shittin’ me,’ I growled.

My nostrils flared, my eyes shuttered momentarily, unable to parse what I’d seen.

When I gazed out again, the hillock where the woman had stood only moments ago was empty.

She was gone.

One of the gunmen opened fire into the forest, pumping a rampant hail of bullets into the stand of trees she’d disappeared into.

My vision went fuckin’ crimson.

I whirled, the gun in my hand, and with cold precision, sent firepower up their ass.

When they realized I’d turned on them, all four shooters switched their gunfire on me, and ammo began to fly in wild abandon.

‘Cazzo,’ I growled, aiming and obliterating the skull of one of the men firing on me.

Blood, brain matter, and gunk flew as I spun, heat-seeking.

A second assailant appeared from behind a tree and squeezed a shot at me.

I waited a split moment, eviscerating his chest with a trigger pull around a trunk.

One of the jackasses was too fast and barreled into my side.

The mofo pulled me off my feet, and I fell to the ground with a thud.

I struggled to fight back, but he was a hefty thug.

He punched, but I battered harder and kicked without mercy, even as the gun battle raged on.

He jammed his barrel into me, trying to fire it into my gut.

Twisting my torso, I succeeded in ramming him. Just as his weapon went off, a massive blast smacked into my shoulder.

Still, my survival instinct surged, and encircling his neck, I squeezed, and in seconds, he was out.

A flare of adrenaline hit, and I went numb, just managing to push him off me, and staggered to my knees, searching for my firearm.

I found it, spinning just in time as yet another of my attackers appeared, aiming a shotgun at me.

We paused, staring at each other.

His eyes flicked to his former companions, and he grimaced. ‘Do you know what kinda hell that’s about to rain down on you when the Caputos and Conti family find out you dared take their capos out?’

‘Who’s going to tell them?’ I smirked.

‘I am,’ he snarled.

‘Are you, though?’

I aimed and fired so fast; he’d zero reaction time.

The bullet got him dead center of mass, and he lurched, then flailed from the power-driven shot through his upper body.

Crimson bloomed on his trunk as he fell so close to me that his hand bounced off my leg.

I scrambled away, blood pounding in my ears.

Silence settled, my torso heaving.

I took quick stock of the fallen bodies on the roadside, thinking quick.

I needed to hide the evidence of the ambush.

Scouring the area, I undertook a few assessments.

In minutes, I was moving fast to roll the remains downhill.

The steep ravine made my work easy, and I used my boots to nudge the unexpected guests into the brushwood.

All in all, the four corpses disappeared, aided by gravity and my sheer doggedness.

Next, the reason for my mission.

It was imperative to find her .

Scanning the lay of the land, I deduced she was close by, regrouping.

Crouching to the ground, I crept through the underbrush in the direction I’d seen her disappear.

The scent of dirt and leaves filled my lungs with each breath.

I headed up the gradual slope toward the rocky outcropping.

Gritting my teeth, I drew down on my wilderness stalking skills from my time with the Italian army, running over the Alps, training in high altitude in ferocious weather, from sun to snow.

Dappled sunlight played across my taut shoulders as I moved in stealth, sensing she was close, lurking.

At one point, a sharp ache blossomed on my shoulder.

Glancing down, I pressed my lips as a gush of crimson stained my sleeve.

Merda , I was bleeding.

I had to find her, even more so now, aware I was in desperate need of medical aid.

With a suck of my teeth, I pushed forward, refusing to let the injury slow me down.

The pain worsened and was excruciating, radiating across my chest with every labored breath, but I couldn’t stop now.

A sudden noise broke through my haze - the unmistakable scuff of a foot against a stone.

I froze, muscles coiled and ready to spring. Straining my ears, I waited for it to come again to pinpoint the source.

I gauged the wind direction and ascertained a location.

Without a sound, I rounded up on her, hiding behind a tree.

Impossible, and yet there was no mistaking her.

She was the shooter, evidenced by the long gun hanging off her shoulder.

I raked eyes over her as she stood to my left under a stand of trees.

Lowering my Sig a fraction, the pain of my wound faded as I thought through my next steps.

I inched closer as her stance moved from alert to relaxed, letting her rifle fall to her side.

If I approached her without the element of surprise, I feared she’d plant a bullet straight through my heart.

Scusa, woman. It’s going to be fuckin’ dirty.

I’d consider begging her forgiveness later.