André was crouched behind a massive rock, watching from a corner as bullets rained down fast. The scene looked to him like a lethal rainstorm. He glanced at the weapon in his hand; a look of desperate, cold calm had settled on his face, his fingers clamping onto the cold metal.
I have to do something too. I have to pull this damn trigger.
On the other side, Armenda moved with unbelievable lightness and astonishing speed. No one escaped her bullets, anyone hit fell motionless with a wound to the head.
Logi, despite having lost one eye, was clearly skilled. Bullets spat from his pistol with shocking speed and accuracy, and after every shot, he stole a glance at Armenda to make sure things were going as they should.
After a long hesitation, André finally rose, lifting his trembling gun. His eyes were swallowed by darkness, layered with terror and confusion. He scanned the area with nervous eyes, looking for a target to aim at. When his gaze landed on one of the attackers, he raised his weapon slowly and put his finger on the trigger.
He clenched his teeth hard, his hands still shaking violently.
Come on, pull it. Pull it, you coward!
Bang!
The bullet tore into the attacker's shoulder; the man convulsed in agony and fell to the ground. But the echo of the shot bounced in André's ear, and then everything faded; sounds vanished, leaving only a sharp hammering ringing in his skull.
He could see the fight before him, bodies moving, bullets flying, but all of it seemed silent, as if the world had sunk into a heavy void. His breaths came in staccato bursts; he gasped loudly while his hands trembled and his legs tangled together.
He tried to steady himself, to hold his fragile body upright, but fear had rooted deep in his heart and forced him down to his knees.
Meanwhile, Enzo was locked in a killing focus. A black smile crept across his face; his eyes missed nothing. He was hunting the bald man, and the moment he spotted the edge of a head peeking from behind a wall, he squeezed the trigger without hesitation.
The bullet struck the man's head; his body flung backward and collapsed inside the hut. At the same instant, Enzo's laughter exploded:
Finally, your shiny skull is mine!
Panic erupted inside the hut and the remaining men flailed about, running wildly. Their voices rose through the air:
"Our Don is down! He's dead!"
Outside the hut, one of the surviving guards crept forward silently, carrying a weapon fitted with a shell. He raised it toward the ridge and squeezed the trigger without hesitation.
The shell launched and struck the hill dead center; the ground shook beneath everyone's feet. Rocks flew in every direction and thick smoke rose to shroud the sky.
Armenda felt the tremor under her feet; the ground she'd been standing on suddenly gave way.
Her eyes widened as the whole world seemed to tilt. She whispered in shock
What!
She began to see everyone around her rising, but then she realized she was the one falling downward. She looked quickly toward Logi to see his face for the last time and found him frozen in shock, unable to believe what he saw.
Her hand shot up into the air, clawing desperately for anything to hold onto. Her legs slipped and her body slid. Then she plunged.
Logi couldn't hold himself. He bolted from his hiding place, screaming at the top of his lungs as he ran toward the chasm that had swallowed her
Armendaa!
But seconds later a bullet tore into his chest. He froze; blood bubbled from his mouth. He crumpled to his knees, but his eyes remained fixed on the abyss that had swallowed Armenda.
He tried to move on his knees, crawling toward her.
"I have to go, I have to save Armenda!"
But before he'd covered any distance, he lost his balance and slipped, landing face-first on the ground.
At that moment André stood where he was, shaking from an indescribable terror. His eyes darted to the chasm that had swallowed Armenda, then snapped back to Logi, who'd fallen after trying to crawl toward her.
"No, why!? Why!?"
Then André saw the man who had shot Logi moving calmly among the rocks. The fear that had gripped him vanished; rage ignited in his eyes. This time he raised his weapon without trembling and let out a cry full of repressed fury.
Aaaaah!
He pulled the trigger and the bullet struck the man's head with deadly precision, the first man André had ever hit with skill.
Quickly, André dropped to his knees and moved cautiously toward Logi. When he reached him he grabbed and turned the wounded man, gently slapping his cheek in an attempt to rouse him.
"Logi, Logi, open your eyes, please!"
Those gentle slaps did the trick; Logi opened his eyes with difficulty. When his gaze met André's wretched face, he raised a bloodied hand and pressed it to his cheek, smearing blood on André's skin, and whispered an apology.
"Sorry, I can't take it anymore. I think this is the end."
"Don't say that. You'll be fine." André held the hand at Logi's cheek; tears pooled in his eyes.
But Logi's face began to pale and his body cooled. He turned his head toward the chasm and remembered Armenda's features; a sad smile crossed his lips.
"I had a wish in this world.
I wanted Armenda and me to go on a normal trip, to laugh and play like any two normal people, and to eat ice cream together. But I guess even a wish that simple can cost you everything."
Logi fell silent for a moment, then turned his face back to André. His voice was lighter now, his face even paler from the heavy bleeding.
"Even if I live, life without Armenda isn't life. Either way, I'm going to die. So don't be sad. Go on. Don't give up like me. Live your life."
Then his hand dropped to the ground and his eye remained faintly open. Sobs welled up in André's chest and he couldn't utter a word. All he did was close Logi's eyes in despair and scream at the top of his lungs.
André pounded the ground with his fists and screamed again in hopeless rage.
Damn it, damn it all!
Tears fell onto his hands, but his face stayed etched with a furious vow.
I swear I'll kill them, I'll kill them!
Footsteps approached from behind.
"Oh, is this one-eyed guy and the girl dead!!"
Those words pushed André to the brink of madness. He recognized the voice immediately; that despicable tone belonged to only one person: Enzo.
He snapped his head around, eyes wet with tears that mixed with a murderous glare.
"Shut that damned throat of yours, or I'll rip your filthy throat out with my own hands!"
For Enzo, pride meant more than anything. A single word against him was enough to tighten his nerves and send his temper boiling.
That's exactly what happened when he heard André's words. His face hardened, unable to swallow such an insult.
"Do you even realize what you're saying, you bastard? I am EnzoVierri! You dare raise your voice at me now?"
"I don't think I'm a fool. I know exactly what I'm saying, Enzo Vierri. I don't care who you are or what rank you hold. What you should know is this, I'll kill every last one of you."
André didn't care about Enzo's fury or what might happen to him. Everything around him had twisted out of shape; his heart nearly burst from the torment of those he'd lost, and from the fact that their deaths had been dismissed, stripped of meaning.
Enzo didn't wait a second after those words. He yanked his weapon from his belt and leveled it at André without hesitation.
But André didn't flinch at the sight of the gun; he glared at Enzo with wild defiance, his eyes blazing with resolve. That look alone pushed Enzo over the edge. He lost his patience and pulled the trigger.
The bullet tore into André's foot.
Yet André, burning with defiance, refused to scream. He bit back the pain, clutching his wound to stem the bleeding.
"I swear I'll kill you. And when you're buried, your grave won't be merciful."
Enzo strode up to him and bent down to his face, gripping him with contempt.
"Listen, you're lucky I can't kill you right now. But don't think your words will be forgotten. As long as I'm around, your life will be nothing but hell."
Every passing second only deepened André's hatred for him, loathing, fury, and the craving for destruction twisting inside his chest.
Enzo released him and straightened, sliding his weapon back into its holster with cold detachment.
"Move. We're heading back."
He walked with arrogant steps, while André lingered momentarily, staring at Logi's darkened features. His heart sank with heavy sorrow. Then, gritting against the pain, he forced himself upright and dragged his injured leg behind him.
His eyes never left Enzo's back, a poisonous disgust gnawing inside him.
Filth. Comparing him to wild beasts would be an insult they had more honor than he ever would.
Enzo glanced over his shoulder to make sure André was following. When he saw him dragging his leg, he let a mocking smile curl across his lips before turning forward again.
By the time the sun had set, they arrived at headquarters. The air inside was fresher than the stench they carried, yet still heavy with the scent of blood and gunpowder clinging to their clothes.
The dim lights barely illuminated the place, revealing Daniel seated on one of the chairs, legs crossed, a book in his hands, a calm smile resting on his lips.
That smile didn't last. When he caught sight of André's injuries and noticed the absence of Logi and Armenda, his face shifted. A cold expression took over, and a smile even colder followed. He closed the book and set it down beside him.
"So, they're dead. Logi and Armenda?"
For Enzo, there was one thing he despised about this place: Daniel Vitale. As Don Dante Damian's right-hand man, his presence was an obstacle, blocking Enzo's access to the boss. He sneered at him with sharp disdain.
"I don't think this concerns you, Daniel. They were weak. Naturally, they died."
"Oh, really?" Daniel's voice cut smoothly and sharply. He rose to his feet, moving toward him with steady, deliberate strides. He despised Enzo too, and enjoyed watching him lose.
"So they died because they were weak, huh? I don't buy that. Their deaths weren't because of weakness. It was you. You're the weak one, Enzo Vierri. You couldn't even protect a small squad. And you dare call yourself strong?"
Enzo's composure shattered in an instant. Veins bulged in his face as he grabbed his weapon from his side and raised it at Daniel.
"How dare you, you blond bastard!"
Daniel toyed with a strand of his hair, twisting it around his finger, a cold smirk tugging at his lips. The dim lights glinted off him as he mocked with calculated calm.
"Blond? I guess you're colorblind too."
Before Enzo could bark another word, a voice thundered through the courtyard, heavy, commanding, laced with raw authority.
Everyone froze at once. The tension dropped for a heartbeat, because they all recognized it immediately. It was the voice of Don Dante.
Enzo stepped back out of respect, while Daniel's eyes lingered on André, calmly observing his exhaustion and the emptiness in his stare. He noticed how André leaned against a column, trying to rest his battered body.
Then Daniel turned toward Don Dante, who approached with his usual slow, deliberate pace, a cigarette pinched between his fingers.
Each step drew him closer until he stood between them. His sharp eyes sliced into Enzo with brutal disdain before softening only slightly as they fell on Daniel, though not without warning.
"Enough of this foolishness."
Then his gaze shifted to André, raising his hand curtly.
"And instead of this nonsense, tend to this idiot's wounds immediately."
But there was no kindness in his tone. Every syllable dripped with venom.
He followed it quickly with a voice colder than steel, a command that left no room for protest:
"Once his wounds are dressed, make him clean the entire yard. No rest until it's done. This is punishment for being nothing but a failure."
"Yes, Don. I'll oversee it myself," Enzo replied submissively.
Dante turned to leave, arrogance written in every line of his face. But his steps halted suddenly because of the sound.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The faint pounding of André's fists against the ground. His eyes gleamed with madness as his knuckles hammered the stone.
Every gaze snapped to him; even Daniel was struck with shock, unable to tell if André was furious, or had finally lost his mind.
Don Dante tilted his head slightly, fixing him with a razor-edged stare without turning his body.
André gripped the column, dragging his broken body upward until he stood. His voice came out ragged at first, then grew sharper, edged with mocking tension:
"I think I get it now, you're nothing but scum."
Straightening fully, he pointed a finger at Enzo, though his eyes locked onto Don Dante, blazing with lunacy. A twisted smile pulled at his lips before a jagged laugh slipped out, carried by defiant madness.
"And you, you're worse than that filth."
The words landed like a bomb. Everyone froze, eyes wide in disbelief at his audacity.
Even Daniel, whose smile rarely faltered, lost his expression entirely. Shock painted his face as he stared at André, unable to believe what he'd just heard. Such recklessness? No, this wasn't recklessness this was playing on the razor's edge of madness itself.
Enzo roared, his voice echoing across the courtyard:
"What did you just say, you bastard?!"
But André didn't back down. He shot him a mocking look and a bitter laugh escaped his lips despite the pain.
"I don't think you're deaf. You heard me loud and clear. So let me tell you one thing: I'm not afraid of you. Not any of you."
Enzo lunged, ready to tear him apart, but Dante's single hand gesture froze him in place.
Dante dropped his cigarette, crushing it under his heel. His heavy, furious steps thudded closer, each one pressing the air down with suffocating weight.
Daniel's eyes followed him, cold and simmering, fully aware of his master's cruelty. But he didn't intervene.
André stood his ground, staring straight into Dante's eyes without a trace of fear, as if defiance itself had become his lifeblood.
When Don Dante reached him, he didn't hesitate.
His fist smashed into André's face.
Then his knee drove into André's stomach, knocking the breath out of him as spit flew from his mouth. Don Dante didn't let him recover; another blow dropped him to the ground. Then the kicks came mercilessly, relentless pummeling him like he was nothing but an empty sack to pour rage into.
André tried shielding his head with his arms, but the pain tore through him without mercy.
Dante's voice thundered, domineering and venomous:
"Learn! Learn how to speak to your boss, you worthless rat! I don't care who your dad is, or who you think you are in my territory, there's no place for scum like you!"
With those words, Don Dante drove one last savage kick, sending André flying into a column with such force the iron torch mounted there rattled.
Seconds later, the torch fell.
It landed directly on André's face. With the traces of gunpowder still clinging to his clothes and skin, fire caught instantly.
A horrific scream tore through the courtyard a sound they had never heard before.
André clawed at himself in madness, slapping his face, grinding against the ground, desperate to smother the flames. His body twisted in agony, caught between fire, sweat, and blood.
Daniel sprinted forward, grabbed a bucket of water, and doused him without hesitation. His eyes widened, unable to believe the brutality he'd just witnessed.
But Dante showed no remorse. To him, it was nothing more than a simple punishment. He turned calmly, lit another cigarette, inhaled with satisfaction, then strode off with a final order:
"Take him to the dark room. Punish him. No food, no water until he gets his mind back."
It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!
Damn it! My face my body's being ripped apart from the inside, damn this!
André's thoughts spiraled into chaos, pain tearing at him until he yanked at his own hair as if it could dull the torment. But the fire wasn't just on his skin its fangs were buried deep in his soul.
Amid his groans, the sound cut through. That vile, delighted voice.
"Yes, Don, leave him to me."
Enzo's voice. A voice savoring every ounce of André's torment, as if this was what he'd wanted all along.
Daniel clenched his fists so hard blood nearly broke through his palms, but his expression remained fixed, the calm smile never slipping. Inside, fury chewed at him but on the outside, he stayed masked, unreadable.
Before leaving, he cast one last look at André long, silent, carrying something no one else could decipher.
Then he turned and walked away with measured steps.