Chapter 12
The preparation for the assault was swift and silent. The Bellucci syndicate did not rely on chaotic street warfare; they operated with the lethal, surgical precision of a highly trained military unit. Adrian stood in the subterranean armory of the estate, shedding his tailored suit jacket and unbuttoning his crisp white dress shirt to strap on a heavy tactical Kevlar vest.
"We have localized the Falcone command center," Dante briefed the thirty elite operators assembled in the room. "It's a heavily fortified high-rise in the financial district. They hold the top four floors. Private elevators, biometric security, and heavily armed guards."
"We do not use the elevators," Adrian stated, picking up a suppressed, customized submachine gun. The artistic tattoos on his hands gripped the weapon flawlessly. "We will execute a vertical insertion from the roof. Cut their communications, disable the backup generators, and plunge the building into darkness. We hit them before they realize the sun has set."
The men nodded in perfect, disciplined unison.
Before heading to the extraction point, Adrian walked back upstairs to the secure, brightly lit nursery. Emma was sitting on the plush carpet, completely engrossed in a massive puzzle with Maria, the head housekeeper. The little girl's fair, rosy cheeks were relaxed, her injured hand wrapped in a soft, cooling bandage.
"Daddy!" Emma smiled, looking up as he entered.
Adrian knelt down, ignoring the heavy tactical gear that contrasted violently with the pastel room. He wrapped his powerful arms around her, kissing her forehead.
"I have to go away for a short trip, principessa," Adrian murmured gently. "You be good for Maria, okay? I will be back very soon."
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"Will you bring me a present?" Emma asked innocently.
"I will bring you peace," Adrian promised, standing up and turning his back on the nursery. The loving father vanished, leaving only the warlord ready to burn a city to the ground.
