Chapter 44: CHAPTER 44 — POV MAT

Rafaele’s grin cut through the cold like a blade dipped in poison.

Behind him, black SUVs lined the street—unmarked, tinted, engines humming. Shadows moved between them, men with rifles slung across their chests. The Phoenix Syndicate. My cousin’s new family.

He didn’t even wait for our guns to fully raise before chuckling low.

“Easy, boys. You fire now and you’ll turn this street into a graveyard.”

I took one step forward, placing myself slightly ahead of Lilianna. Her palm grazed my spine in warning, but I kept moving.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” I said.

“Oh, on the contrary.” Rafaele spread his arms. “This is exactly where I need to be. After all—” his eyes slid to Lilianna, “—I had to see the Genovese heir for myself.”

Lilianna’s jaw tightened.

“Watch your mouth,” I growled.

He smirked. “Relax, cousin. She’s impressive. And lethal. I can see why you broke every rule to keep her.”

Louis edged near me, voice low. “Boss… he came with an army.”

“I see it,” I murmured.

Rafaele tilted his head. “The warehouse was never the trap. This is.”

And suddenly the streetlights flicked off—every single one.

Darkness swallowed the block.

A beat later, red laser dots bloomed across my chest, Louis’s head, Dante’s throat, and slid like serpents toward Lilianna’s heart.

Snipers.

Dozens of them.

My men reacted instantly, forming a shield around us. Weapons lifted, safeties off.

But none of us fired.

Rafaele stepped closer, laser trained on his shoulder rather than his heart—immune to the fear he was unleashing.

“Come quietly, Matty,” he said softly. “Save your soldiers. Save her.”

The audacity of him using her as leverage tightened my grip on my gun.

“That’s not happening,” I said.

“No?” He sighed dramatically. “I gave you a chance. I always gave you chances. Even when Uncle Ronan named you his successor.”

He spat the last word like poison.

“So that’s what this is about,” I said. “Power.”

His smile returned, sharp and sick. “Power, legacy, revenge—call it whatever makes you sleep better. The moment you were chosen, you stole the future that belonged to me.”

“Your future was in my household,” I snapped. “You were raised beside me. Fed beside me. Protected beside me.”

His eyes hardened. “And overshadowed beside you.”

The air vibrated with tension.

Lilianna’s voice cut clean through it. “Enough. What do you want?”

Rafaele’s gaze flicked to her, hungry for the reaction he was getting.

“What I’ve always wanted,” he said. “My rightful throne. Petrov promised it. In exchange for delivering you—and Matteo.”

I stepped in front of her, blocking his view.

“You’re never touching her.”

“Ah.” He grinned cruelly. “There it is. The great Matteo Costello, brought to his knees by a woman.”

A hum shot through the Syndicate men as they shifted positions, tightening the net. Their rifles locked onto trigger points.

“One wrong move,” Rafaele sang, “and I paint the street with your blood.”

Lilianna leaned in close to my ear, whispering so only I could hear:

“Give me ten seconds.”

My pulse kicked. “Lilianna—”

“Trust me.”

I closed my eyes once.

Then nodded.

Because if there was one person who could cut through Rafaele’s game…

…it was her.

She stepped beside me, fully visible under the sniper beams.

Rafaele’s eyes lit with triumph.

“There she is,” he purred. “The last Genovese.”

She smiled slowly.

“And you’re the last disappointment in your family.”

I almost laughed.

Rafaele’s face cracked—a raw flash of fury.

“She has a mouth,” he hissed. “Shame it won’t be attached to her body for long.”

Louis growled, “Touch her and I’ll tear your throat out.”

“Please try,” Rafaele sneered. “After all… you always wanted to be Matteo’s shadow dog.”

Louis lunged forward, but Dante grabbed his arm.

“Not yet,” Dante muttered.

Rafaele lifted a hand. His men raised their guns higher.

“Enough foreplay,” he said. “This ends now. You’re outnumbered, cousin. Outgunned. Outplayed. Lower your weapons.”

Every soldier behind me looked to me. Waiting. A single command would determine if they lived or died.

A single breath.

A single second.

Lilianna squeezed my hand lightly—once.

Now.

She clicked something in her pocket.

A soft static crackled in my earpiece.

Then—

POP.

Every sniper laser vanished.

A blackout burst.

Not on the streetlights…

But on their scopes.

Rafaele’s head jerked upward. “What the hell—?!”

My men didn’t wait.

Neither did I.

“MOVE!”

Gunfire tore through the night. My soldiers dove behind cars, using steel as cover. Syndicate men scrambled as their snipers lost visuals, stumbling to readjust.

The block erupted into chaos.

Lilianna pulled a flash grenade from her vest, popped the pin, and hurled it into the center of the Syndicate’s formation.

BOOM—

A burst of white devoured the street.

Screams followed.

I grabbed her wrist, yanking her behind me as bullets slammed into the pavement where she’d stood.

“Stay with me!” I barked.

“I am,” she shot back, sliding a pistol into her hand.

Louis tackled a Syndicate heavy to the ground, breaking his arm with a sick snap before finishing him with a clean shot.

Dante fired from atop a car hood, taking down two men before flipping behind the engine block.

Rafaele disappeared into the smoke like a shadow—coward, always a coward—but his laughter echoed through the chaos.

“You can’t win this, Matty!”

“Yes,” I muttered, firing into the fog. “I can.”

Lilianna pressed against my side, returning fire with deadly precision. One bullet caught a Syndicate soldier in the throat; another clipped another man’s shoulder.

“You weren’t kidding,” I growled.

“That was me being restrained,” she replied.

A Molotov hurtled through the smoke toward us—flame arcing through the air.

I grabbed her waist and slammed us behind an SUV as it exploded against the asphalt, flames licking the vehicle’s frame.

She pushed hair out of her face. “He’s trying to burn us out.”

“He’s desperate,” I said. “That means he’s losing.”

“He doesn’t know how to lose,” she hissed. “He only knows how to destroy.”

A shadow flickered at the edge of the firelight.

Rafaele.

Running.

Toward the alley.

Toward whatever escape route he had planned.

Lilianna saw him the same second I did.

“I’m going after him,” she said.

“No,” I snapped. “I am.”

“You can’t go alone.”

She was right.

But letting her go after him was worse.

My chest tightened with a kind of fear I’d never known until her.

“You stay with Louis,” I commanded. “Keep the street locked down.”

“And you?” she demanded.

“I finish this.”

Her throat bobbed. “Matteo—”

I cupped her face fast, fierce. “I’m coming back.”

“Promise,” she breathed.

“I don’t break promises to you.”

And then I was running.

Bullets whizzed past my ears as I sprinted toward the alley, vaulting over fallen bodies—some mine, mostly his.

Rafaele darted ahead, weaving between buildings with the ease of a man born for backstreets and bloodshed.

“You always were too slow!” he taunted over his shoulder.

I didn’t respond.

I just chased.

We tore through a narrow corridor between brownstones, feet pounding wet pavement, the air thick with smoke and gunpowder.

He reached a metal fence, vaulted it, and landed with a roll.

I followed.

He spun, firing wildly.

I dropped, the bullets slicing the air above my head, and slid across the ground, firing once, twice—

One bullet grazed his leg. He stumbled.

“Fuck!” Rafaele roared.

He limped toward a fire escape ladder, grabbing it, hauling himself up.

I shot again—but hit the metal beside him. Sparks burst like fireworks.

“Can’t kill me, cousin?” he taunted. “Or won’t you?”

I reloaded smoothly. “I’m aiming for your heart.”

“You’ll miss. You always miss.”

“I don’t miss,” I said. “I choose.”

His face twisted.

He climbed onto the fire escape landing, breath harsh, and slammed a fist against the metal door beside him.

It flew open.

Inside, I saw movement.

Men.

Armed.

Waiting.

A secondary trap.

He grinned. “Welcome to the real kill box, Matteo.”

And slammed the door shut behind him.

I took two steps back, lifted my gun—

And a hand grabbed my arm.

Lilianna.

Breathing hard. Eyes blazing.

“You didn’t—”

“I wasn’t letting you go in there alone,” she panted. “I told you—I stay close.”

A laugh escaped me—raw, disbelieving, grateful.

“You never listen.”

“Neither do you.”

Gunfire thundered behind us. Louis’s voice crackled in my earpiece:

“Boss! We’re holding them, but we need you two back!”

I stared up at the door.

Rafaele and his inner circle were inside.

Waiting.

Armed.

Terrified.

Desperate.

“We’re not going back,” I said.

Lilianna loaded another magazine. “Then where?”

I nodded toward the door.

“Inside.”

She exhaled once. A steadying breath.

Then she gave me the smallest, most dangerous smile.

“Let’s end this.”

And side by side—

as partners, as equals—

we ran into the dark.

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