Anthony sprinted through the maze, sharp edges of the manicured hedges tearing at his clothes. A warm, sticky wetness clung to his leg, the coppery tang of blood filling his nostrils as he left a crimson trail on the lawn. He darted past towering trees, their rough bark scraping against his skin, seeking refuge near the cold, metallic fence bordering the mansion's grounds.
Gunfire erupted from all directions, each shot a sharp crack echoing through the night, sending shivers down Anthony's spine. He slid along the damp ground, gritty earth clinging to him, hands over his ears, desperately trying to stay low and escape the deadly rain of lead.
Amidst the chaos, a serene gray water fountain caught his eye, its gentle splashing a stark contrast to the mayhem. As he sprinted toward it, lungs burning and breath ragged, a mafia associate emerged from the shadows, aiming his weapon directly at Anthony's head. The glint of moonlight on the gun barrel caught his eye. Acting on instinct, he dodged, twisting violently as his knees hit the wet ground, the cold seeping through his torn trousers. The bullet whizzed past, grazing his forehead and leaving a stinging sensation.
Gasping, he lashed out, foot connecting with the assailant's stomach, a sickening thud echoing in the night. Rolling on the damp grass, he narrowly avoided another gunshot.
With a surge of desperate determination, Anthony scrambled to his feet, muscles screaming in protest, and charged the man, crashing him against a bush. He delivered a brutal elbow strike to the man's temple, feeling the bone give way beneath the force. The assailant crumpled to the ground, but the danger was far from over.
Another shot pierced the air, searing pain erupting in his left leg. He cried out, a strangled gasp of agony, but forced himself to keep moving, driven by the will to survive.
As he rounded a dense thicket, his vision blurred with pain. He stumbled, hitting the cold ground, breath coming in ragged gasps, the metallic taste of blood thick in his mouth. Through the hedges, he spotted the wrought iron gates of the mansion—so close yet so far. The groans of goons echoed in the night; he knew he didn't have much time.
Alexander, face contorted in triumphant rage, spotted Anthony's crumpled form. A cruel smile twisted his lips as he dashed forward, slipping on the wet grass. With a swift kick, he swept Anthony's legs out from under him. Anthony grunted as he hit the ground, his head striking the red bricks of the pathway, pain exploding in his skull. He rolled, coming to rest inches from the mansion gates, the cold metal a cruel mockery of his almost-escape.
He cried out, weak and raspy, struggling to lift his head. The barrel of Alexander's gun aimed directly at the back of his head, cold metal chilling against his skin.
"It's over, you little shit," Alexander hissed, voice a sinister whisper. "You should have known better than to cross me. Now you'll pay the price."
His finger tightened on the trigger, the hammer pulling back with a sickening click. The world slowed, sounds fading as blood rushed in Anthony's ears. All that remained was the pounding of his heart and the chilling knowledge of life and death hanging in the balance.
"Any last words, you fucking traitor?" Alexander taunted, sadistic glee in his eyes. "Go ahead, beg for your life. It won't make a difference."
He savored the moment, anticipation thick in the air, ready to seal Anthony's fate with a single pull of the trigger. The garden fell silent, the very air holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable.