Chapter 13
The infiltration was a masterclass in silent, surgical violence. Raffaele’s team moved through the rear corridors of the Greco mansion, systematically executing the perimeter guards before they could sound the alarm. The element of surprise was absolute.
Raffaele reached the ornate double doors of the grand dining hall, which connected directly to the foyer where the bulk of the Greco forces were entrenched.
"On my mark," Raffaele whispered into his comms earpiece, positioning himself beside the door. "Flash and clear. Leave Don Greco alive. Everyone else dies."
He held up three heavily tattooed fingers. Two. One.
The Marconi operatives kicked the double doors open and hurled four flashbang grenades into the center of the foyer. The concussive blasts were deafening, the blinding white light searing through the dark house.
Before the ringing subsided, Raffaele and his men poured into the room.
The Greco soldiers, completely blinded and deafened, never had a chance. The Marconi strike team laid down a devastating, coordinated crossfire. The sharp, crisp cracks of suppressed weapons echoed off the high ceilings as the heavily armed hostiles were shredded before they could even raise their rifles.
Raffaele moved through the chaos with the terrifying, inevitable grace of a predator. He fired with flawless precision, dropping a capo who attempted to flank him, his face carved in cold, unwavering stone.
Within ninety seconds, the massive foyer was entirely secured. Thirty Greco soldiers lay dead on the marble floor.
Raffaele stopped in the center of the carnage, his breathing perfectly even. He lowered his weapon and looked up the grand, sweeping staircase. Standing on the landing, surrounded by four remaining bodyguards, was Don Greco.
The old Mafia boss looked down at the slaughter in his own home, his fair skin completely drained of color.
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"You," Don Greco rasped, his voice trembling with sheer, unadulterated terror. "How did you get inside?"
Raffaele slowly walked to the base of the stairs, adjusting the cuffs of his unbuttoned shirt. "You left the front door open, Don Greco," Raffaele mocked softly. "I just decided to use the back."
