Chapter 228

Chapter 228
Leonardo

Marco approached, champagne in hand. "Quite the spectacle, isn't it?" he asked, gesturing toward where Dante was now dancing on a table, surrounded by cheering friends.
"He seems to be enjoying himself," I replied diplomatically.
Marco's smile didn't reach his eyes. "He always does." He took a sip of his champagne before continuing. "Walk with me again? The gardens are quieter."
I followed him away from the noise and into the immaculately landscaped gardens. Security cameras tracked our movement, and I noticed two of Marco's men discreetly following at a distance.
"I want to talk to you about Dante," Marco said when we were far enough from the party for privacy.
"What about him?"
"He mentioned the digital markets to you. That wasn't just drunk talk." Marco stopped by a rose trellis, his profile illuminated by strategic landscape lighting. "He's actually been researching cryptocurrency operations, ransomware opportunities, and identity theft networks. Surprising, I know."
I raised an eyebrow. "And you think he's capable of running something like that?"
"I think," Marco said carefully, "that with the right mentor, he might finally find his place in the organization."
The implication was clear. "You want me to take him under my wing."
"You're the logical choice. Your operation is the most sophisticated in the family. The legitimate side, the street business, the international connections. You've built something remarkable, Leonardo."
I remained silent, considering the proposal. Dante was unreliable and impulsive and had never shown any real aptitude for our business. But he was family, and that counted for something in our world.
"I'll think about it," I said finally.
Marco nodded, accepting this was the best he would get for now. "That's all I ask." He glanced back toward the party. "I should return to my hosting duties."
"I'll join you shortly."
As Marco walked away, James approached from where he'd been waiting at a discreet distance.
"Update," I demanded.
"Nothing suspicious, boss. Every position is covered, and every entrance is monitored. If someone was planning something tonight, they've either called it off or our intel was wrong."
I frowned. Conrad had been specific about the timing and location. Had he lied? Or had something changed?
"Keep the men on alert," I ordered. "Maybe they postponed when they realized we knew about it."
"Already done."
We returned to the party, which had reached new levels of debauchery in our absence. Dante was nowhere to be seen, likely having retreated to a private area with one or more of the models he'd mentioned earlier.
I circulated for another hour, maintaining appearances while my mind worked through possibilities. Conrad's information had been too detailed to be completely fabricated. Something didn't add up.
The crowd had thinned considerably as midnight approached. Marco was locked in conversation with some politician whose campaign I'd funded last year. Dante was nowhere to be seen, likely passed out in some guest room or entertaining company in one of the estate's more private areas.
"We should go," I muttered to James, who nodded almost imperceptibly.
We made our way through the remaining guests, exchanging brief pleasantries where necessary. Marco caught my eye from across the room and gave a subtle nod. Message received: we'd talk later.
The night air carried a chill as we stepped outside. The valet appeared instantly, hurrying to retrieve my car.
"Anything from the perimeter teams?" I asked James as we waited.
"All clear. No suspicious activity reported."
The valet pulled up with my Maserati, and I slipped him a generous tip before sliding behind the wheel. James took his place in the passenger seat, immediately checking his phone for updates.
"Conrad's intel was specific," I said, accelerating down the winding driveway. "Why set us up with information that detailed if nothing was going to happen?"
"Maybe they changed plans when they realized we were onto them."
I shook my head. "No. Conrad was too confident, too precise. This wasn't a bluff."
The road stretched before us, empty at this hour. I pushed the car harder, the engine responding with a satisfying growl.
The compound came into view as we rounded the final bend, its silhouette dark against the night sky. Something seemed off. The gate stood open, and the guard post was unmanned.
"James," I said quietly, nodding toward the gate.
He was already reaching for his weapon. "Not good."
I pulled to a stop fifty yards from the entrance, killing the headlights. The compound loomed silent and dark. There was no movement, no lights, and no signs of the usual security presence.
"Call the team inside," I instructed.
James pressed his phone to his ear, his expression growing increasingly grim with each unanswered ring. "No response."
We exchanged a glance, both reaching the same conclusion. I reversed the car, backing up around a curve in the road where we wouldn't be visible from the compound.
"Radio check," I said, pulling out my own phone and dialing the direct line to the security office. Nothing.
"Fuck," James muttered, already checking his weapon.
"How many men inside?"
"Eight on the regular rotation, plus two with Conrad."
We exited the car silently, moving to the trunk where I kept an emergency arsenal. I selected a Glock with a silencer attachment and extra magazines. James opted for something with more firepower, an MP5 submachine gun that would make short work of anyone who got in our way.
"Approach from the east side," I decided. "Through the service entrance. More cover that way."
James nodded, and we set off through the trees, keeping low and moving quickly.
The compound remained eerily quiet as we approached. No alarms, no gunfire, no signs of struggle. Just complete, unnatural silence.
We reached the service entrance, a heavy metal door usually guarded by cameras and at least one armed man. Now, it stood slightly ajar, and the security pad beside it was dark.
James pressed himself flat against the wall, weapon ready, as I eased the door open wider. The corridor beyond was dimly lit by emergency lights, casting long shadows across the floor.
Something metallic gleamed on the ground just inside. I crouched down, examining it without touching it. It was a shell casing, recently fired, judging by the lack of dust.
"Recent," I whispered. "Within the hour."
We moved deeper into the compound, checking each room systematically. The kitchen and main living area were clear. There were no signs of struggle, but the absence of personnel spoke volumes.
As we approached the security office, the first body appeared. One of my men slumped against the wall, a single bullet hole in his forehead. Professional work.