The Billionaire's Mistake

Chapter 259: Failed

Rafe Luciano paced the length of the dingy apartment like a caged wolf, his teeth clenched so hard his jaw throbbed. Plumes of smoke from his smoldering cigarette trailed in his wake, the harsh scent of tobacco and desperation hanging thick in the air. "Someone wanna run that by me again?" His gravel-toned growl cut through the uneasy silence blanketing the room.

Beside the squalid kitchenette, two of his most trusted Wolf Gang lieutenants shifted uncomfortably under their boss's laser-focused glare. It was Gino who spoke up, the wiry man unable to meet Rafe's eyes.

"It's like Paulie said, boss. That hit went sideways 'cause the civilian turned out to be the new...wife of Mathew Shaw himself."

The words hung in the air like a damning pandemic, each of Rafe's men seeming to shrink a few inches where they sat or leaned against the peeling wallpaper. A vein began to pound menacingly at the Wolf's temple as he processed that disastrous information. "La famiglia..." he hissed through clenched teeth. "We went after la fuckin' famiglia without knowin' it?"

Bone-cracking footfalls carried him across the cramped living room in two strides. Paulie barely had a chance to flinch before Rafe's oxen-thick hands locked onto his wrist. A sickening snap echoed like a gunshot in the tense quiet, accompanied by an anguished wail as the man's arm buckled into an unmistakable compound fracture.

The rest of the Wolf Gang remained deathly still, no one daring to so much as breathe too loudly as their capo loomed over Paulie's whimpering form. Eyes glittering like flint, Rafe straightened, idly flicking spent ash from his cigarette across the luckless scout's body. "That...was for not doin' your homework, caporegime. Next time I gotta hear about endangerin' every other made man in this family, somebody's gettin' deaned out."

Stalking back toward the battered pleather sofa, Rafe collapsed into the creaky cushions and tore an angry drag from his smoke. "This changes everything. The Shaws got our scent now, know we been sniffin' around their operations. No way they let that kind of insult slide, not even with an apology."

The wheels of his tactical mind spun furiously as the reality set in. They were lambs among wolves now, separated from their customary allies and unable to hide from the vengeful glare of one of the most powerful organized crime syndicates on American soil. A muscle ticked rapidly in Rafe's densecorded neck as he lifted one meaty hand to massage the tension from his brow. His reputation, his men's very lives now hung by a thread courtesy of one idiotic fumbled assignment.

The shrill chirp of his burner cell sliced through the dead air. Rafe held up a single calloused finger to his men as he unfolded the disposable flip phone. Even before bringing it to his ear, he knew it would bring nothing but further suffering on its end. "Tell me you got some good news for once, Gino," he growled into the mouthpiece.

The response sent ice water flushing through his veins. A laugh of pure disbelief, devoid of all humor, wrenched itself free from Rafe's chest.

"You wanna run that by me again, truck stop?" His voice dripped venom, the serpentine undulations of a predator silently coiling. "I must'a misha'd that last part..."

An uneasy silence stretched for several agonizing beats before Gino expelled a quivering exhale.

"It's just like I said, boss. Word just hit the streets from Gambino's people - their asshole boss done went and called out the Shaw family dogs on our asses. Wants to collect on that open insult contract, make an example..."

family?" He was on his feet again in an instant, stalking with scarcely controlled fury toward the rusting fire escape

Gino's feeble attempt at

was drowned out

frame down behind the tattered sofa. His hands moved by sheer muscle memory, sliding the

and

He bellowed over the cacophony as his men scrambled to return fire across the living room. Through the swirling fog, he glimpsed the lifeboats silhouettes of spec-ops stylized soldiers storming in through the shattered windows. Paulie hit the floor beside him, clutching a gushing wound to his shoulder and howling. "It's the Dimigor brothers, boss! And at least another two fire

in Rafe's gut like an icy pit even as he fed hot lead over the sofa's riddled backrest, trying to

so ruthless and unflinching that even the most violent South American cartels had taken to avoiding the brothers rather than risking retribution. To find them among the Shaw family's hired guns spoke volumes to the level of wrath

limbs splayed at improbable angles.

his

to be

he would die

pistols blazing,

many of these caavavangeli

he could before

the apartment's exterior wall. Rafe and the handful of his crew still breathing were picked up and flung

noise filled his head as

the rapidly creeping

their situation. The floor

was tilted at

broken plumbing and support.ngle,

in a hellish melange of jagged motion.

muffled to

and out