Chapter 44
The sudden departure for Europe required absolute secrecy. Alessandro did not take a massive army; he took only Dante and a highly specialized, elite squad of six tactical operators. They flew under the radar, landing at a private airstrip in the south of France just before dawn.
The Corsican brotherhood had established their primary command hub in a heavily fortified chateau overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. They believed their remote location and heavy security made them untouchable. They were entirely unprepared for the sheer, surgical violence of the Rizzano strike team.
The assault commenced under the cover of darkness. The tactical operators breached the perimeter walls using silent, high-tech climbing gear, entirely bypassing the outer sensor grids. They moved through the manicured gardens like phantoms, their suppressed weapons raised.
Alessandro led the infiltration, his face carved into a mask of cold, sociopathic determination. He wore heavy, dark tactical gear, the antithesis of his usual tailored suits. He was not a diplomat; he was an executioner.
"Target building secure," Dante whispered over the encrypted comms. "The Corsican leadership is gathered in the main dining hall."
"Execute breach," Alessandro commanded.
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The heavy, antique wooden doors of the chateau blew inward with a concussive roar. The Rizzano operators flooded the room, their high-intensity tactical lights cutting through the darkness and blinding the European bosses.
"Nobody moves," Alessandro’s deep, raspy voice echoed over the chaotic shouts, commanding absolute, paralyzing obedience.
