“Whoa, man,” Ivan says, stepping between us. “I want to charge in there more than anybody, but we need to know what we’re facing. Calm down and let him do his thing. This is his territory, but even I know it’s hard to be precise when you’re talking inside of a building.”
“Fine.” I breathe deeply, pinching the bridge of my nose. “How many men are stationed outside, then?”
“I’m seeing six signatures,” Cary replies, glancing my way. “But that only accounts for three sides of the building. So, I’m going with eight.”
I nod, pondering my next move. “Give me your max estimate for the inside.”
He flicks back through the differing images on the fucking laptop before looking to me with a calculating pause. “No more than thirty and possibly as few as fifteen.”
“Pack it up,” I say, motioning for him to stash the equipment as I turn to address my men. “As you just heard, we’re going in at an automatic disadvantage. There are eight of us and possibly as many as thirty-eight of them, but that doesn’t mean shit.” I pass my gaze over each man. “We have a fucking purpose. Madeline’s inside that building, and we’re not leaving without her.”
“Yes, Boss,” the men say in unison, including Cary, who’s stashed his equipment in the Beetle and lined up with the rest of my men.
Carlos, Matteo, and Angelo are all top-notch killers who put their skill on full display as they worked their way up the ranks. The two soldiers, Alessio and Luca, have been with us since their teen years, so with the right fucking guidance—mine—they can hold their own. As for Ivan, when it comes to Madeline, he has it in him. I just hope that same factor doesn’t bring his damn downfall. He must stay calm and focused, allowing his head to lead and not his heart.
“We go in silent and deadly,” I say, whipping a knife from its holster on my waist and admiring the sharp steel blade. “Our firearms will be used only once we’ve executed all possible silent kills. I don’t want Madeline harmed in the crossfire.” I pause and give them all a menacing stare. “I expect twenty of these fuckers to be dead before anyone even knows we’re here.”
“How’re we gonna handle that, Boss?” Angelo asks, and he’s the only one who’s stupid enough to question me at a time like this, but it’s a fair point.
“We’ll start by killing the eight men stationed outside.” I pause and motion to the left. “We’ll work our way around back and take out those two guards first. I’d love to wait for dark, but time is of the essence, so we’ll get as close as we can and do our thing. No gunfire and no physical fights. Slit their fucking throats.”
I glance to Ivan. “Where would you estimate Madeline’s position to be?”
“From this angle?” he asks, and I nod once. “Far right corner.”
“Cary.” I turn my laser focus to him. “What kind of structure are we looking at here?”
“It’s not a wide-open space, Boss,” he replies, snapping into business mode. “Most likely similar to an old auto shop. Definitely hallways and probably office-like rooms, maybe even a parts storage area. That’s what made it so difficult to pin down the heat signatures, but the area Ivan mentioned has a heavier presence.”
“How many doors?” I ask.
“There’s one normal door and two bay doors along the front of the building,” Cary answers. “I suggest we go in through the normal door.”
“Agreed.” I tilt my head. “After the outside guards are exterminated, we’ll regroup at the front of the building and enter as a silent, efficient killing unit.” I breathe deeply through my nose and release it. “Make sure your headsets are functioning and listen for my orders at all times.”
“Yes, Boss.”
I keep my knife in hand as I crouch and start working my way through the cars. We stay low and move quietly, taking note of the lazy men who’re standing there running their fucking mouths as we wind through the junkers and position ourselves directly behind the building. The two men back here aren’t gabbing like schoolgirls, but they’re also not very fucking alert, either.
I nod to a piece of metal at Angelo’s feet. “Toss it out into the open,” I whisper, giving Carlos a nod as I bring my knife back, ready to send it soaring through the air.
Carlos follows my lead and smirks as he withdraws a damn Shuriken from one of his cargo pockets. I roll my fucking eyes—him and his fancy-ass throwing star. He’d better hope it gets the job done.
At my nod, Angelo tosses the metal into the open, about six feet from the front bumper of a rusted-out Camaro, and immediately tucks himself behind the fender. Carlos and I wait patiently, tensing the second the men notice the movement. As expected, after exchanging a glance, both of them start moving toward where the piece landed without making contact with any of the other guards.
Classic fucking stupidity.
And they promptly lose their lives for it.
With a flick of my wrist, my knife soars through the air and plunges into stupid number one’s temple, and almost directly after, Carlos’ girly little star sticks deep into stupid number two’s neck. As he grunts and grabs for it, blood spurting between his fingers, Carlos rushes out, retrieving his star and slitting the idiot’s throat in one carefully orchestrated move.
I lead the rest of my men into the open, motioning for four of them to split off and get a look around the corners, while the rest of us drag the bodies against the back wall of the building.
“Let’s split into two groups and meet around front,” I
