“Get down!” I barked, lunging at Andrea first—he’d proven to be the more unstable one, so I needed to handle him quickly.

I grabbed his wrist and twisted, drawing on my years of training to disarm the threat. Two shots boomed through the corridor, one from my gun and the other from Federico’s. My bullet ripped through Andrea’s skull, exiting in a bloody splatter against the wood paneled wall. Federico’s bullet grazed my upper arm, a shot to injure but not to kill; he was still obeying Dante’s instructions to bring us in.

It was too late for that. My men would’ve heard the shots, and they’d be here to back me up in seconds. I had less than a minute to interrogate Federico.

I grabbed his elbow and twisted, forcing him to turn away from me as I popped his shoulder out of its socket. He screamed, and his gun clattered to the floor. I kicked it away and shoved him forward, so that his skull cracked against the wall. A crimson smear darkened the wood as he slid to the ground.

While he was disoriented, I grabbed Andrea’s knife that he’d kept hidden in his boot—I’d noted the extra weapon when I’d slowly edged out of the dance studio. I was on Federico in a heartbeat, plunging the blade into his gut. He screamed, back arching in agony.

“Who else on this estate is working with you?” I demanded, my voice loud enough to be heard over his ragged cry, but my tone clipped and controlled.

The threat had been neutralized, and now I needed information.

“No one else!” Federico gasped out.

I twisted the knife. Another guttural scream.

“Tell the truth,” I prompted, ice cold.

“It was just Andrea and me,” he babbled. “That’s all I know. Dante paid us for this a week ago. He’s been waiting for your father to die. Please—”

I swiftly withdrew the knife and plunged it back in, tearing flesh and vital organs.

“I’m sorry… So sorry, Luca. I don’t know anything. Please, you have to—”

The traitor’s pathetic plea was silenced when I wrenched the blade free from his gut and brought it up to his neck in one fluid motion, slitting his throat. Blood sprayed, warming my cheek. It spilled from his ruined throat, pouring over my hand. His mouth opened and closed, his eyes wide and wild. I didn’t bother to watch the light leave them. After his betrayal, Federico didn’t deserve any company in death.

I tossed the knife away and got to my feet just as half a dozen of my men thundered toward me, rushing to answer the sound of the gunshots. I waved at them to stand down.

“I handled it.” I informed them. I toed Andrea’s ruined skull. “Clean this up. Find their friends and question them. Dante has declared war.”