Chapter 132 The Three Musketeers
Dante's POV
“Romano’s already paid half while Luca wants the next shipment by Friday. Tell the Don’s guys it’s just another routine drop. They’ll never know.”
Those were the words that nearly had me running over and ripping their necks off.
A second voice laughed obnoxiously loud.
“Easy money. Been working like this for months and they still haven’t caught on,” another added.
My blood turned cold. We weren’t just looking at a mole anymore. We’d walked straight into the heart of the betrayal.
But what I suddenly heard from behind told me we weren’t the only ones who knew we were here.
Footsteps, soft at first with just the gentle scrape of a shoe over the gravel, but when the night is this silent, they traveled far.
I froze between in my hiding position under the window with my hand already sliding towards the gun at my waist.
No words were needed as we didn’t even need to exchange looks. Years of running jobs together had carved the signals into our bones.
Marcus peeled off left, going behind a rusted dumpster, barely making a sound.
Nico dropped low and rolled behind the nearest car tire, covering my right flank while I stayed exactly where I was with my back pressed against the brick wall, and gave the tiniest nod towards the shadows.
They footsteps soon rounded the corner, revealing four men with their guns loose in their hands like they were merely going for a patrol.
As they came under the faint light, I quickly recognized them, Luca’s boys.
I could tell from the shape of the tattoo on the lead guy’s neck, it was something they had in common.
Marcus moved first, taking one silent step around before his arm snaked out and yanked the last man backwards into the dark.
A sound was barely made but I watched as his neck snapped clean. The guy never even got the chance to gasp.
Nico took the next one down with a single suppressed shot to the knee with his silent revolver.
The man dropped, and before he could scream Nico was on him, covering his mouth and putting a knife across his throat.
The first two spun around as the faintest of sounds escaped the fallen guy's lips. But that was the perfect opening I needed.
I rushed out of the shadows and put two bullets in the nearest guy's head with silent shots.
He staggered back into his partner, buying me the split second I needed to close the distance.
I drove my elbow into the second man’s jaw and felt the bone give off before sweeping off his legs.
He hit the ground hard and Nico was already there, stomping a boot too his chest while Marcus’ gun pressed against his forehead.
“Talk or die,” Marcus whispered in a flat voice.
The guy spat blood. “Go to hell,” he muttered.
Nico drove his feet into his chest harder. “We don’t have time for this,” he remarked.
I looked at Marcus and with one shared glance, the same look we’d traded a hundred times before, he got the message and pressed the barrel harder.
“Last chance, dick,” he repeated but nothing came back.
Then, he pulled the trigger, ending it.
Four down in under thirty seconds, n alarms, no noise.
Just the way we used to do it when it was only the three of us against the rest.
We dragged the bodies behind the garage where no light reached and Marcus wiped his knife on the last guy’s shirt before looking up at me.
“I see you still got it, Don,” he remarked.
I allowed myself half a smile. “Never lost it,” I replied.
Nico was already at the side door, picking the lock with the same calm he always had.
The door clicked open after a while and we slipped inside in a single file with me first, Nico behind, and Marcus covering us from behind.
The place had crates lined around the walls, exactly like the paper trail had promised.
We moved in sync, I took the left aisle while Marcus took the right and Nico went straight down the middle.
We moved together, taking steps after each other and looking over each other's shoulders.
And when I raised a hand, they both stopped instantly.
When I pointed at a crate, Nico was already popping the lid while Marcus covered the far end.
From the crate, he pulled out brand-new rifles with their serial numbers filed off.
They were the exact same models we’d sold to Romano on paper last month.
“Son of a bitch,” Nico whispered.
Marcus lifted one, checking the weight. “These are ours. No question,” he remarked.
I was about answering when the far door banged open.
Six more men poured in with their guns up this time. They’d heard something after all.
We didn't panic, we just moved fast.
Nico dropped behind a forklift and opened fire, cover shots that forced the newcomers to scatter.
Marcus popped another crate open and flanked left, taking out the guy trying to circle us.
I went right, using the shadows between the stacks the way I’d practiced a thousand times in my training yard.
A bullet whizzed past my ear, but I didn’t flinch, I just returned fire, sending two shots and taking a man down.
Marcus called out loudly. “The let's clear!”
Nico answered in the same way. “The right’s clear!”
And I believed they trusted me to take the middle. Well, I did. I stepped out, drew the last two guys’ attention, and let my team do what they did best.
Marcus took one from behind while Nico dropped the other with a headshot while the guy was still turning.
Peace and quiet again.
We stood there for a second, breathing hard but far from strained, the three of us in some sort of loose triangle, the way we’d always ended after every fight.
Marcus wiped sweat from his brow and gave me a small nod, the same nod he used to give me back when we were still kids trying to prove we belonged.
Nico lifted his gun. “We still make a hell of a team, don't we?” He remarked.
I almost smiled, just a tug of my lips. “I guess we do,” I replied.
Then my eyes caught something on the floor near the last body, a phone that had slipped out of his pocket.
The screen had lit up, and as I opened it, a message greeted me.