Page 55 of Brando

We round the corner, the sprawling silhouette of Frank’s compound now visible in the distance. Guard towers. Armed men patrolling the perimeter. The walls are high, the gates locked tight. But none of that matters.

I glance at Scar. He’s already got his weapon out, a wicked smile on his face—nothing like the calm, collected man I’ve come to trust. This is war. And in war, there are no rules.

We get closer, closer still. The guard at the gate doesn’t see us coming. By the time he’s aware, it’s too late. One shot. That’s all it takes. The silence of it, the precision, makes my blood run colder.

We breach the compound swiftly. The rain beats down on us harder now, but it’s nothing compared to the chaos inside the walls. Flashlights swing through the darkness; shouts echo through the compound. It’s chaos now, but it’s controlled chaos. Our men are moving in perfect synchronization. Every movement is a step closer to Mia.

I can almost hear her voice, feel her presence—so close, so goddamn close.

“Clear left!” Scar calls out, his voice cutting through the chaos. A burst of gunfire erupts from his position, a few more guards falling.

I don’t wait for instructions. I don’t need them. I’m already moving, one foot after the other, toward the central buildingwhere Mia is being held. The closer I get, the sharper the scent of blood and sweat becomes. I can feel the end drawing near.

“Right behind you,” Rafi’s voice crackles in my ear. He’s in position, too

I slam through the door of the building, my heart thundering in my chest. There’s no hesitation. No second-guessing. I’m a man possessed, and Frank is the last thing standing in my way, the last thing standing between me and my future.

Mia is in that room. She’s waiting.

And I’m coming for her.

Explosions tear through the night,splitting the air with a deafening roar. The earth shakes beneath our feet as concrete crumbles like sandcastles in the face of a storm. Shattered glass rains down, the harsh sounds of breaking metal and snapping wood drowning out the shouts and curses of the men around me. The chaos is so thick, so suffocating, it feels like the entire world is about to collapse in on itself. Bullets ricochet off steel and stone, the sharp ping of impact reverberating through the compound. This is war. And it’s all happening here—at Falcone’s compound, where the final act will play out.

My voice slices through the chaos, harsh and urgent: “Move, move!” It’s a command, not a suggestion, and it’s enough to snap the men around me into action. We descend upon the compound like ghosts of vengeance, moving through the smoke and shadow, a sea of black-clad figures in a world gone mad.

I barely feel the ground beneath me as I push forward. My eyes lock onto the objective: the heart of the compound, the building where Mia is being held. It feels like hours have passedin the last few minutes, but I can’t afford to think about that now. There’s only my one singular focus. There’s only her.

Scar’s right behind me, his movements a blur of lethal precision. His pistol is an extension of his arm—smooth, effortless, deadly. A man of few words, but every pull of the trigger speaks volumes. His aim is perfect, his targets falling in rapid succession, their bodies dropping like ragdolls. The air is thick with the sound of gunfire, the acrid scent of smoke, and the unmistakable tang of blood. But Scar doesn’t flinch. He’s been through worse. We both have.

“Left flank, heavy fire!” The crackling voice in my ear belongs to Rafi, his tone sharp, his pulse quickened but steady. I can almost hear the sweat on his skin, feel the tension in his breath. The enemy is dug in deep, but we’re closing in.

I see him move through the shadows with predatory grace, another one of our allies. His eyes scan, dissecting the battlefield's anatomy. Each step measured, every breath a calculated risk.

I see his lips move from the short distance where he stands. “Scar,” he whispers to himself, recognizing my brother’s silhouette.

A glint of metal from above—a sniper’s scope. Intent on Scar.

“Down!” the Enforcer barks, lunging at Scar as he lifts his gun, throwing himself into the spray of bullets. Miraculously, he doesn’t sustain so much as a scrape as he rolls across the ground and out of harm’s way.

Scar hits the ground, a bullet whizzing overhead where his head had been moments before.

“Dammit!” Scar growls, rolling to take cover.

“Keep your thanks,” the Enforcer grunts, not waiting for an ounce of gratitude. His eyes are already scanning the roof, his weapon trained on the sniper’s position.

Without another word, the Enforcer raises his gun, takes aim, and in one swift motion, a shot rings out, cutting through the chaos like a knife through flesh. The sniper’s perch falls silent. The threat is neutralized, the man who once had the upper hand now a corpse in the rain.

“Clear,” the Enforcer calls. His voice is steady, devoid of emotion. He’s not here for glory. He’s here for results.

I hear Scar’s low chuckle, tinged with both annoyance and grudging respect. “Good save,” he admits finally, his voice rough as he glances across the battlefield to the Enforcer.

The two men lock eyes, a shared understanding passing between them. It’s brief—just a heartbeat, a silent acknowledgment of what was just done—but it speaks volumes. This is no game. This is survival.

“Go!” I bark, my voice snapping them back into motion. There’s no time for anything else. The job’s not done. The dance of destruction continues.

I push forward, gun raised, moving with purpose. My boots slap against the wet concrete, the rain pelting my face like tiny needles, but I don’t feel it. The roar of gunfire and the sharp crack of bullets are a symphony of violence that I’ve learned to ignore. The only thing that matters is getting to Mia. The only thing that matters is ending this nightmare.

Scar is by my side, moving like a phantom through the haze of smoke and gunfire. The Enforcer is somewhere ahead, always watching, always calculating. Every step we take is one closer to the center of the compound, to the wing where Mia is being held. I don’t know how many men we’ve killed; how many have fallen under our onslaught. I don’t care. I only care about one thing.