Sam thought she knew where her loyalties lay until she uncovered a devastating secret: her real family was murdered by the same mafia gang that raised her. Preston, once her closest ally, now stands between her and the sinister leader of their mafia family, Xavier; a lover of diabolical games. Torn between love, loyalty, and revenge, Sam faces the ultimate test of faith when she learns that Preston has plans for their gang that could destroy everyone she's ever known and that she is more than a victim of circumstance. In the world of the mafia where loyalty is deadly and betrayal is the ultimate weapon, will she stand by her ally or trade everything for vengeance?
Chapter 1 Shots Fired
Pwft! Pwft! Pwft!
"Shots fired! Shots fired!" A low, urgent voice came over the comms ear piece, the familiar muffled sound of a silenced weapon could be heard over the line.
"There are men on the roof!" The low voice continued.
"Where are the shots coming from?!" Sam whispered hoarsely, ducking behind the large oak desk.
"Who got in here?" She continued urgently, doing a frog walk from the desk to the heavy oak door that was partially open and peeking around the corner.
"We don't know! Jay stopped responding a minute ago, and then Teek...get out of there now!" A deep voice replied, tone low but urgent.
"Keep them away! I've got the safe open, just need to get the diamonds!" Sam insisted forcefully.
"Forget the – ugh!" The voice was abruptly cut off.
"Mike! MIKE!!" Sam yelled, still keeping her voice low.
"Shit!" Sam turned back to the open safe staring intently from her crouched position beside the door. Her eyes darted from the safe to the window as she touched the comms earbud in her left ear.
Her pupils narrowed and she lunged toward the safe to grab the diamonds they had come for.
The moment she moved from the door, splinters of wood zipped by her face, and a few stuck into her arm.
"Ngh!" she grunted, still keeping her voice low. The shots had been fired from a muzzled pistol, missing her by inches.
"Shit!" she cursed again, under her breath, as she sped past the open safe and through the glass window directly across from the door where she had squatted just moments before.
More bullets whizzed past her as she did a half summersault bursting through the window and landing in an almost kneeling position on the rooftop.
She stood and ran swiftly across the rafters, carefully balancing herself on the sloped surface.
Jumping off the edge, she landed smoothly on the soft grass and raced for the hedges of the large compound. Running in a zig-zag motion as pieces of dirt and grass bounced around her, as the shots toward her missed their mark.
"Nigel! Are you there?" She huffed, not slowing down or stopping for a single second.
"I'm here Boss. In the car. Keep coming. I see them...keep coming! B team will cover you!" Nigel replied steadily, expertly keeping his voice low and clear.
Sam sped on to the agreed pick-up spot, where the parked van was waiting. When she saw the vehicle, she sped up, running with all her might.
She could hear the footsteps behind her, fast and determined, and...many. Too many.
Seeing Nigel's eyes as he stared at her, she ducked down on the gravel and spun toward her pursuers, pulling out her custom silver .45 caliber pistol, also silenced. She steadied her aim and immediately fired off six shots, putting down three men.
She dodged to the right, flying out of the way of shots aimed in her general direction by five gunmen, just as six men in black suits moved like liquid shadows behind the five shooters, each picking one target and slicing their throats before the shooters knew what was happening.
==========
Standing up from the brush she had thrown herself onto, she looked behind the six shadows and saw three more shadows moving swiftly after the remaining men who had been after her but had begun to retreat.
"What the hell –" Sam started to say but was cut off.
"Are you hurt?" A familiar voice asked Sam, pulling down the black mask around his nose and placing a firm hand on her upper arm where the wood from the door had stabbed her.
"Just a scratch," Sam responded testily as she looked up into the eyes of her number one person. Preston Ward.
"What are you doing here?" She asked narrowing her eyes at him as she shrugged his hand off her arm and headed to the van.
"Naij, the others?" She shot at the man in the driver's seat.
"Nothing...I think we lost them." He responded neutrally, though his jaw was clenched and his knuckles were white as he gripped the van's steering wheel.
"Shit! I'll check –" Sam replied, turning toward the now quiet mansion.
"No. Get in the van and get out of here. My team will check." Preston responded curtly, blocking Sam's path.
"This is my op, Preston." She pressed, gazing steadily at him.
"It's 'Team Leader', Alpha One. Get in the van and leave. That's an order." Preston replied sternly, placing a hand on his waist, holding Sam's gaze.
Sam's back straightened as she stared at Preston, jaw clenched.
"I failed the mission." She stated flatly, still facing him.
"Yes. We know. Leave. Now." He replied staring her in the eyes. He turned to Nigel, the only surviving member of her four-man team, "Nigel, report to base. Don't stop for anything or anyone. Even if one of your guys contact you. Understand?"
"Yes, Sir." Nigel responded tightly, his grip tightening even more on the steering wheel.
Preston turned back to Sam who had not moved from where she was standing, still staring at him. He aspirated, "Go Sam. The Boss will be waiting to hear about this."
Sam shifted her weight on her feet at this, moving her eyes away from Preston.
Xavier...
I failed the mission...
I failed...
She mused as her gaze moved from Preston to the horizon.
The sun is rising, she pondered.
"Yes. And you should be on your way." Preston remarked in a low, more placating tone.
Her head snapped back to Preston and she nodded at him, realizing that she must have spoken out loud.
"Let's go Naij," she murmured as she jumped into the front passenger seat.
Nigel nodded and sped off as soon as Sam slammed the door shut.
==========
Sam's lips were pressed tightly and her brow was furrowed as she stared at the road ahead.
She placed her hand in her pocket and squeezed the strip of paper she had torn off a document in the safe.
Samantha Vulpe Bucinschi. Heir. Aged five – deceased.
What the hell?
What does this mean?
She pondered as she squeezed the paper tighter.
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