Chapter 249

Dante’s shots kept Marcello’s men scrambling, their return fire erratic, unable to pin him on the elevated terrace. He reloaded swiftly, the magazine’s click sharp, and resumed firing, his scope sweeping the courtyard for threats.

Inside, Marco navigated the villa’s halls, pistol raised, the gunfire outside muffled by thick walls. The corridor was narrow, lined with framed photos and a faded rug.