Guns & Roses (EDITING)

Chapter 29

Some watch-guards they have. This will be a piece of cake.

You can hear tumbling around and a man cursing at what we guess is the other more drunk guy.

Boris signaled us using his hands as we set foot inside the building. The place filled with mild chatter from the men having their fun.

Taking my cue, I went forward as silent as possible, aiming for one of the men situated near the door. Choking him using my right arm, I tightened as hard as possible as grunts and pants were heard. He was trying to grip onto my arm but he eventually let go as his head fell. I released my hold and quietly laid down the unconscious man.

I noticed Anton do the same to the others on patrol. Peeking from the side, at least thirty men where cheerfully clanking their beer bottles and chatting like there's no tomorrow. Huh. This seems so fishy.

We were practically unnoticed but alas, things don't always go our way. Because the stupid bartender whom I still don't know the name of- accidentally tripped on a bottle causing a grand entrance.

"Shit"

Everyone from the room turned their heads to us as it took literally a few seconds for their drunk brains to register that we were not one of them and that they were practically infiltrated by the enemy.

"Fuck it. Let's get this over with" I said in exasperation as I took out my knife and charged for them.

And just like that, guns were shooting off from different angles. The glass of the ballroom was shattered everywhere as our men made their own dramatic entrance. They let out some gas bombs which filled the room with smoke causing the others to fall down.

I knew this was just a decoy, level one of the game Arturo's playing on us. Because as fast as the first batch of men fell, twice the number came. A few familiar faces seen in the crowd.

"Perché, ciao, vecchio amico"
Why, Hello there old friend

Turning around, I grinned at the man my knives was well acquainted with.

"Pedro" I smirked. "My babies sure missed your face" I taunted.

His tough facade faltered a little at my words. The man with dark hair and green eyes with a scar that went down from his brow to his cheek was Pedro Mortelli, Arturo Mortelli's maternal cousin whom was born into the Mafia world. He was a fierce fighter, especially at knives, and I can say our duels were never boring.

"Ha! That humor of yours never fail to amaze me. Let's see whose face ends up with a scar tonight" he said.

And with that, like the old fool he was, he charged first, attacking with fool force. I swiftly dodged his attacks as he did with mine. The clanking of knives were the only noice I was focusing on. He was on attack mode, and I made sure my defenses were strong enough until he tires out.

He was right handed and always attacked with his right foot forward first. I turned my knife backwards I lunged towards his weak spot, his left side, but then I noticed the stupid kid almost getting killed. Deciding to throw my knife at his attacker, Pedro in return chose the opportunity to let his knife graze through my defenseless side.

Backing a way as fast as I can, I grasped my wounded arm as the familiar pain of a knife's cut filled my senses. Blood was already staining my Versace button down and I frowned at the stain and then the man in front of me.

"This is expensive!" I yelled.

He stared at me for a couple of seconds registering the words I said.

"Oh for god's sake. I'll buy you a new one, better wear it for your funeral" he laughed.

"The only funeral I'm attending is your cousin's and yours" I smirked.