Chapter 200 I’m Going In
Chapter 200 I’m Going In
Draco’s POV
What the fuck.
The words didn’t stay in my head. They came out low, sharp, controlled just enough not to turn into something louder. My grip tightened slightly around the comm as Bella’s voice settled into something colder than anything I had heard from her before.
He said her name.
Not Echo. Not a guess.
Isabella.
My jaw locked, a slow burn settling in my chest that had nothing to do with strategy and everything to do with him crossing a line he had no business even looking at.
Who the fuck does he think he is. He doesn’t get to threaten her. He doesn’t get to speak her name like that. He doesn’t get to breathe another second after that.
I lifted the comm again, my voice steady, but there was no missing the edge under it now.
“Alright, listen up,” I said. “Everyone heard what she said.”
No one interrupted. No one needed clarification.
“This just turned serious,” I continued. “We’re not playing this careful anymore. We’re finishing it.”
A brief pause, just long enough for it to land. “We kill him.”
That sat heavy across the line.
“He has to die.”
Nico was the first one to respond, like always. “I knew that would piss you the fuck off,” he said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “That’s your Donna.”
There was no humor in me to answer that. But he wasn’t wrong.
Renzo cut in next, his tone calm but carrying that quiet edge he always had when things were about to turn. “About time we stopped watching,” he said.
Giovanni let out a low breath. “Been ready.”
Of course he had. I didn’t waste another second. “Positions,” I said through the comm.
Everything shifted. Men moved.
Not rushed. Not sloppy.
Controlled. Focused.
I stepped forward, my eyes locked on the structure ahead, the dark outline of it sitting there like it hadn’t just become the center of everything.
“I’m going in with Renzo,” I added.
That got immediate pushback.
“Boss…” Nico started.
“No,” I cut him off.
“You don’t need to be first in.” Giovanni added.
“I said no,” I repeated, sharper this time. That ended it. Because they all knew that tone. This wasn’t a discussion. This was personal.
And I wasn’t standing outside while someone else handled it.
I moved into position beside Renzo, my weapon already in hand, my focus locked in.
He glanced at me briefly, not questioning it, just acknowledging it. “You’re not changing your mind,” he said.
“No.” I said plainly.
A faint breath left him, something close to a quiet laugh. “Didn’t think so.”
I raised my hand slightly. That was the signal.
We moved.
The approach stayed clean.
Every step measured, every movement deliberate. The building loomed closer, shadows stretching around it, hiding more than they revealed. No lights. No noise. No sign of panic.
That didn’t mean anything.
Men like him didn’t show panic.
They waited.
We hit the entry point together, Renzo’s men slipping in first, clearing angles before I followed. The air inside felt different immediately. Heavier. Closed in. The kind of space where sound carried whether you wanted it to or not.
“Clear left,” one of Renzo’s men said quietly.
“Right’s good,” another added.
We moved deeper.
Room by room. Fast, but not rushed. Every corner checked, every shadow accounted for.
Then the first shot broke the silence.
Everything snapped into motion.
“Contact,” someone called out.
Gunfire erupted from the far end of the hall, bullets tearing into the walls, sparks jumping from metal and concrete as Renzo’s team dropped into position instantly.
“Return fire,” I ordered.
We pushed forward into it. No hesitation. No pause.
One of his men came around the corner too wide, too fast. He didn’t get a second chance. Renzo dropped him clean before he could adjust, his body hitting the ground hard.
Another followed behind him, smarter, tighter. He got two shots off before some of Renzo’s men stepped in from the side, overwhelming him with force that didn’t leave room for mistakes.
The space filled with noise, controlled chaos snapping into place as both sides adjusted, pushed, countered.
“They’re pulling back,” Renzo said, already moving.
I saw it too. They weren’t holding ground. They were delaying.
“Forward,” I said.
We advanced, clearing the next set of rooms with precision, forcing them back step by step. Each door we pushed through met resistance, but it wasn’t disorganized. It was structured.
They were buying time.
For him.
“Where is he,” Nico’s voice came through the comm.
“Inside,” I replied. “And moving.”
That confirmed it.
He wasn’t staying. He was running.
“Tunnel,” Renzo said, already reading it the same way I was.
“Yeah,” I answered.
We pushed harder.
Another man stepped into the doorway ahead, firing wild, trying to slow us down. I closed the distance before he could correct, ending it before he became anything more than a second of noise.
“Keep moving,” I said.
We cleared the next room.
Empty.
But the signs were there. There was recent movement that came through here.
“He’s ahead,” Renzo said.
And his men were doing exactly what they were supposed to do.
Guarding him.
Buying him seconds.
Trying to get him to that exit.
I tightened my grip slightly, pushing forward again, the path narrowing as we closed in.
Not far now. Not far at all. And I wasn’t letting him walk out of this.
He just wasn’t ready for what was waiting on the other side.