The ties that bind

The first round of gunfire erupted like a thunderclap, but Lorenzo didn't charge in blindly.

Instead, his team moved with precision, spreading out, taking cover behind the abandoned cars and rusted storage units.

The Rossis weren't here for a brawl—they were here to win.

Sabatini barely flinched as his men returned fire, controlled and tactical. He knew the numbers were against him, but he wasn't panicking.

He never did. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, observing the chaos like a man who had already planned his next five moves.

His fingers tapped once against his wrist, a signal too subtle for most to catch.

Serena caught it.

Her pulse tightened. He's stalling.

She glanced at Santiago, who had taken cover beside her behind a stack of metal crates. His sharp eyes tracked every movement, reading the battlefield just as quickly as she was.

"He's not trying to win," she murmured under her breath. "He's buying time."

Santiago smirked, shifting slightly to reload his gun. "Of course he is. You don't get to his level without always having an escape route."

Serena's jaw clenched. Sabatini had spent years weaving his empire in the shadows, striking where it hurt most, then vanishing before anyone could retaliate.

He was a phantom—untouchable, calculating. If they let him slip through their fingers now, they might never get another chance.

She exhaled sharply, forcing herself to think past the heat of the fight. "Lorenzo, he's going to run."

Her brother's voice crackled through the earpiece. "Then find out where."

She glanced at Matteo, who was pressed against the wall beside the storage unit, gun steady. He caught her look and gave a single nod.

They moved fast.

Serena slipped through the gunfire, sticking to the shadows along the edge of the storage facility. The darkness was their ally.

Santiago was right behind her, his movements just as fluid, their silent coordination seamless.

Matteo kept his position near the unit, laying down occasional fire—not to kill, but to control. He wasn't aiming for their men. He was aiming for their movements, forcing them where he wanted.

Sabatini's men weren't stupid, but they didn't realize the game had shifted.

And Sabatini?

Serena's gaze locked onto him.

He wasn't watching the battle anymore. He was waiting for something.

That was all the confirmation she needed.

A flash of movement—Sabatini took a step back, toward the narrow alley between two storage units. His hand brushed against the edge of his coat. A signal.

Serena reacted instantly.

She lunged from cover, gun raised. "DON'T—"

But it was already in motion.

The sudden screech of tires split the night. A black car burst into the lot from the far end, speeding straight for the alley where Sabatini stood.

A getaway.

He had planned this from the start.

Serena fired. A single shot, aimed for the car's front tire.

The bullet hit its mark—the tire exploded, the vehicle skidding sideways, metal screaming against pavement. But it didn't stop. The driver was good, regaining control within seconds, closing in fast.