In a world where loyalty is a dangerous game, kylina finds herself torn between danger and desire. When a forbidden romance with D'Angelo, A mafia leader ignites, the line between love and survival blurs. As she pulls back, her breath heavy with ant...
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We arrived at the Moretti hideout under the cover of night. The tension was palpable, the air thick with anticipation. I glanced at D'Angelo, his face a mask of determination. Our team, forty highly trained personnel, moved silently through the shadows, weapons at the ready.
"Remember, we're here to put an end to this," D'Angelo said in a low voice, reminding us to stay vigilant.
We nodded, understanding the gravity of our mission. We were here to dismantle the Moretti operation, to send a message that their aggression wouldn't go unanswered.
As we approached the building, I signaled to the men to spread out, surrounding the hideout from all sides. The night was quiet, the only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the city.
"Finneas, take the team and cover the main entrance," D'Angelo instructed, his eyes scanning the perimeter. "I'll take the back."
"Understood," I replied, motioning for my team to follow.
We moved swiftly, our footsteps silent on the ground. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the adrenaline coursing through my veins. As we reached the main entrance, I signaled for the men to take their positions.
"Ready?" I whispered, receiving nods in response.
With a swift motion, we breached the door, guns drawn. The inside of the hideout was dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls. We moved through the rooms methodically, checking each corner for threats.
Suddenly, gunfire erupted from down the hall. Bullets whizzed past us, thudding into the walls and sending plaster flying. We dropped to the floor, returning fire. The staccato of gunshots echoed through the building, a chaotic symphony of violence.
"Take cover!" I shouted, diving behind a large wooden table. "Return fire!"
Our team responded instantly, the air thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder. I caught a glimpse of D'Angelo down the hall, his eyes locked on the source of the gunfire. He raised his weapon and fired, his aim deadly accurate.
"Finneas, dobbiamo prenderne uno vivo!" he yelled over the noise. ("Finneas, we need one alive!")
"Ci penso io!" I replied, signaling to two of my men to follow me. ("I got it!")
We advanced down the hallway, bullets flying around us. I spotted one of Moretti's men trying to make a run for it, and I tackled him to the ground, my gun pressed to his temple.
"Don't move," I snarled. "You're coming with us."
The man trembled, his eyes wide with fear. "Please, don't kill me!"
"Shut up and get up," I ordered, yanking him to his feet.
The gunfire around us began to subside as D'Angelo and the rest of the team secured the building. The silence that followed was almost deafening, broken only by the occasional groan of a wounded enemy.
