Now that the trial has been put to rest, Rueben believes that life is on an upward trend. It's not long before he understands he is sadly mistaken.
Around every corner lies a new demon lurking with the desire to rip the rug out from under him. He m...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝗗rumming his fingers against his steering wheel to the beat of the song playing on the radio, Enzo sat staring at the Torres Estate. A group of three black SUVs sat in the driveway, obviously there to safely transport Beau and Emmet to wherever they had plans. It was overly dramatic, but it's not like they – the Capo and the Heir – could just travel without the exceeded protection.
He sat a couple doors down from the Estate, not wanting to make his white car stand out more than it probably already was. It just helped that Emmet decided to place his roots in a neighborhood – it made it less suspicious. While it was smart, it was just as dumb. It made it easy to find this place.
Enzo looked down at the clock; it was two p.m. now. Normally, missions like this one weren't supposed to be executed in the daytime because it opens doors for more witnesses, but he had no choice but to do this now. The time in Madrid was eleven p.m., and he was sure that Rueben and his gang were about to put an attack on his men.
He needed to do this with all parties distracted.
Emmet and Beau off site, and Rueben unable to be alerted and called.
Dismantling the Spanish mafia from the inside was the last step.
For now.
After all, this was just the beginning of the end.
Enzo sat deeper in his seat, pushing his sunglasses tighter on the bridge of his nose as the first black SUV exited the gates. Beau and Emmet had climbed into the middle car – how obvious. When all three of them were departing down the road, he sat up and turned the car off.
He had to get in the zone. This was the last thing he wanted to be doing, but his hand was being forced. The only other capable members were in Madrid – it was up to him to do this. Still, it was going to take a toll on his mental health.
Hurting women was something that made him sick to his stomach.
Almost none of them deserved it.
And in his lifetime, he's only ever hurt three.
He glanced at his passenger seat and scooped up his vibrating phone. Nico's name flashed on the display. It better be good news.
"Yes?" Enzo answered the call.
"Preparations are set. Things are running smoothly."
"Good."
"We're expecting them to show up within the hour."
Enzo looked at his watch, "Perfect. I'm about to handle the other half of the mission."
"Sounds good, Boss. See you on the other side."
"See you," he replied, ending the call.
He popped open his glove compartment and threw his phone inside, pulling out the tarp at the same time. He undid his belt buckle and crawled over the center console, slipping into the passenger's seat. He pulled the coverall open and placed it over the driver's seat. He knew this mission would be messy, and his seats were leather. As much as he loved this car, it wasn't a big deal to get blood all over it. It would be a problem, however, if they recovered this car while it was in his possession and was stained with blood. Precautionary measures never hurt anyone.
