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Within twenty-four hours we have the location the packages have originated from

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Within twenty-four hours we have the location the packages have originated from. The box carrying my sorellina's littlest finger. With both the Italian and Spanish mafia enraged and utilizing all available resources, it took little convincing to get answers. Blood was shed, individuals were tortured, but we received a location.

Every usable soldier working under the Moretti and Martinez name accompanies us as we pull up to said location. My attention is immediately drawn to smoke exiting through chimneys atop the deteriorating structure. Pulling my gaze from there, the exterior alone, I can see looks to be an old worn down warehouse residing in the outskirts of the city. She never even left the area.

After going over the plan one more time, I exit the car alongside my four brothers. Behind us I see the three Martinez brothers doing the same, each of our faces holding nothing but rage. Rage at the thought of our youngest siblings being murdered.

Wordlessly signaling with a nod of my head, the eight of us head towards the warehouse. We approach the main entrance as our soldiers surround the outside of the building. This business is personal, and I intend to get my hands dirty.

With our guns drawn, Sebastian and I lead the group. To no surprise at all, the interior reflects the same decaying state as the exterior. A musty smell fills my senses as we travel through the building. Water leaking from pipes provides an eerie sound from the otherwise silent atmosphere.

We continue our journey until eventually hearing muffled voices coming from a closed room situated at the end of the hall. Quickly approaching the door, I waste no time in kicking it down, eager for answers.

Within the blink of an eye the five men in the room are held at gunpoint, we take their guns from their waistbands efficiently disarming them.

Sebastian and I approach the leader, Dmitri Petrov. Ares holds his gun to the side of his head, however Dmitri cracks a wide smile not at all bothered at his current situation.

"Where is she?" I ask, getting straight to the point. My sorellina will always be my top priority.

The Don of the Russian Mafia simply laughs at my question, a cynical vile laugh. Ares tenses, forcing the barrel of his gun further into Dmitri's temple.

"I thought I sent a clear message, she's dead. Along with that little friend of hers," switching his attention to Sebastian, "your dear brother." He responds, still holding that wicked smile of his.

Sebastian signals to his brother Marcus. A gunshot sounds, the man Marcus held falls to the ground. Sebastian steps forward, "Wrong answer" he states simply.

Blood having sprayed from the gunshot wound, the eldest Martinez brother flicks some from his brow, "See, we do not believe you," He pauses, rubbing his chin in thought, "If this is the case, show us the bodies. I demand proof." He spits at Dmitri, clearly losing his patience.

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⏰ Last updated: Apr 30 ⏰

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