Chapter 19 - The Fall of the Donati
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The tarmac exploded into a roaring firefight.
Fifty Sicilian hitmen streamed down the jet stairs, but they were caught in a brutal crossfire executed by Damian’s elite strike team. High-caliber sniper rounds rained down from the roofs of nearby hangars, picking off the attackers before they could reach cover.
Damian stepped out from the lead SUV, firing his heavy pistol with terrifying accuracy, clearing a path toward the jet stairs.
Wren moved like a phantom through the fog. She didn't stay behind cover—she advanced straight toward the stair platform, her two suppressed handguns barking rhythmically.
Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.
Every shot found a target. Sicilian mercenaries fell like autumn leaves around her.
Viktor Donati, seeing his fifty-man strike force decimated in less than three minutes, panicked. He scrambled backward into the cabin of the jet, trying to close the hydraulic door.
Wren sprinted up the metal stairs, leaping through the closing gap just before the door sealed shut.
Inside the plush leather cabin of the jet, Viktor drew his gold revolver with trembling hands. "Stay back! I'll blow this plane to hell!"
Wren didn't stop. She closed the distance in a heartbeat, executing a sweeping high kick that shattered Viktor’s wrist, sending the golden gun spinning across the carpet.
Before he could scream, Wren pinned him against the leather seating, her ceramic blade pressed against his throat.
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"Five years ago," Wren whispered into his ear, "your father killed my family while they slept. Today, the Calloway bloodline sends its regards."
She didn't hesitate.
