The Mafia Marriage Contract

The night swallowed them whole, the streets of Barcelona a labyrinth of shadows and danger. Dante led the way, his movements sharp, purposeful. Blood stained his suit, his mind razor-focused on one goal—Niccolò Vasquez would not see another sunrise.

Lorenzo walked beside him, gun at the ready. Sofia had taken point, scanning their path for any signs of Syndicate reinforcements. And Amelia—his fire, his anchor—matched his pace, eyes cold with determination.

"Where would Niccolò run?" she asked, her voice steady.

Dante's jaw tightened. "Not run. Regroup. He's a strategist, not a coward. He'll fall back to his stronghold."

Lorenzo scoffed. "And let me guess—his stronghold is a goddamn fortress?"

Dante gave a sharp nod. "La Fortaleza. It's built like a military bunker. Underground access, rooftop security, the works. Getting in won't be easy."

Sofia clicked her tongue. "Then we don't get in."

Dante glanced at her. "What are you suggesting?"

A slow smirk spread across Sofia's face. "We smoke him out."

---

La Fortaleza - 1:45 AM

Niccolò paced inside his high-security base, watching the surveillance feeds as his men reinforced every entrance. His fingers curled around a cigar, but he didn't light it. The attack at La Muerte had been expected. What he hadn't anticipated was Dante's level of preparation.

"He's coming."

The voice came from the shadows—a man draped in black, his face half-hidden by darkness. Niccolò didn't flinch. "Of course he is. The question is, how?"

The figure tilted his head. "You don't sound worried."

Niccolò let out a slow breath, finally lighting his cigar. "Dante Moretti is many things. But he's also predictable."

A chuckle came from the darkness. "You sure about that?"

Before Niccolò could respond, the first explosion rocked the building.

---

The Storm Breaks

The ground trembled as fire and smoke erupted from the side of La Fortaleza. The explosion sent Syndicate guards into a frenzy, their shouts filling the air.

Dante moved like a ghost through the chaos, his team right behind him. The outer defenses had been breached—now came the hard part.

Amelia pressed against his side, her voice low. "We need to move fast. The longer we wait, the more time he has to regroup."

Dante met her gaze. "Then we finish this."

Lorenzo, already ahead, took down two guards with silenced shots. "Hallway clear."

They stormed inside.

Bullets rained down the corridors, but Dante didn't slow. His team moved with lethal precision, tearing through Niccolò's men like a hurricane of vengeance.

At the end of the hall, a steel-reinforced door loomed. The final barrier between them and their enemy.

Dante slammed his palm against the access panel, breathing hard.

"Niccolò!" he roared.

Silence. Then, through the intercom—

"Welcome home, Moretti."

A click.

The sound of locks disengaging.

Then, the door swung open.

Dante stepped inside, and Niccolò was waiting.

Smiling.

A gun in one hand.

And in the other—

A detonator.