In love with his own killer

XLIX

Chapter 49

The air was heavy, thicker than the smoke curling from the barrel of Stefano's cigar. Outside, the late-night sky stretched low over the compound, the kind of black that promised blood before dawn.

Elijah stood in the center of the courtyard, boots planted, eyes scanning every man in sight. No one spoke above a murmur. The metallic clink of magazines being loaded, the dull thud of crates hitting the ground, the shuffle of boots — it all became the heartbeat of the night.

"Check your ammo twice." Lorenzo ordered, voice like gravel dragged across steel.

Stefano came up beside him, adjusting the strap of his rifle. "You good, fratello?" he asked quietly, almost cautious. "Big night. I know you've got-"
{Brother}

"I'm fine." Elijah cut in, eyes still fixed on the men as he inhales his own cigar. His tone made it sound like the subject had been buried six feet under.

Stefano exhaled a slow breath, but didn't push.

Elijah finally looked at him, expression sharp as a blade. "I need to be ready for whatever happens tonight. And so does everyone else."

Elijah walked off, passing around his men like soldiers. Brushing past murmured conversations and men that were already stationed and ready.

"Bene, ascoltate tutti!"
He started off with, grabbing everyone's attention. If they were talking, they stopped. If they were walking they froze.
{Alright everybody listen up!}

"Stasera è una grande serata per noi. Stasera è la serata in cui smetteremo di lasciare che quei russi sporchi pensino di poterci sconfiggere." He stands in the  center looking around at everyone. His voice strong, powerful and held authority.
{Tonight is a big night for us. Tonight is the night where we stop letting the dirty ass Russians think they can defeat us.}

"Anche se scegliessero quelle troie per schierarsi dalla loro parte, va bene. Perché insieme non potrebbero e non ci metterebbero mai al tappeto."
{Even if they chose those bitches to side with them thats fine. Because even combined they could and would never put us down.}

"Se vedi un russo, spari. Se vedi uno spagnolo, spari. Voglio che questa casa sia piena di sangue. Assicurati solo che non sia con il tuo. E quando spari, non mancare il bersaglio."
{You see a russian, you shoot. You see a spanish, you shoot. I want this house to be full of blood. Just make sure it's not with your own. And when you shoot. Don't miss.}

"Vai alle tue posizioni." He called, and the courtyard exploded into motion.
{Go to your positions.}

***************************************************
Treasure's POV:

The van hummed softly beneath us, the low vibration matching the steady thud of my pulse. Small raindrops tapped against the tinted windows, making the night outside seem even darker, like the world knew what was coming.

Inside, no one spoke much. Just the occasional click of a gun being checked or the ruffle of gear as someone tightened their vest.

I sat near the door, eyes fixed on the GPS screen mounted to the dashboard. Our route glowed in pale blue light, winding toward a future that felt sharp-edged and final.

"Two minutes out," Devontae murmured from the driver's seat, his voice low but steady.

Liz shifted beside me, her fingers drumming lightly against her thigh.
"Once you're in, radio silent until you're clear, right? I question her to maybe distract her from whatever she might be thinking about.

She nodded. "Yea, we don't know if they can hear us through the tunnels so we thought it's best to stay quiet until we're in the house. No risks." It was a last minute observation that they realized as we were loading the van going over the plan for the millionth time.