The night was thick with tension as Dominic and Vincent made their way to the rendezvous point. The air felt heavier than usual, thick with the promise of violence. Dominic's body, already battered from earlier encounters, felt like it was moving on sheer willpower. Every step he took, every breath he forced out, seemed like a monumental effort, but his mind was focused—he had a mission to complete.
Vincent walked beside him, his usually calm demeanor now marked by a hard edge. He was fully aware of the stakes—they were in enemy territory, and they couldn't afford to let their guard down.
The plan had been simple: ambush the enemy, take them by surprise, and end it quickly. But simplicity didn't always work in the world they lived in.
As they rounded the corner of a darkened alley, Dominic felt the first jolt of danger. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He knew something was wrong.
"Wait here," Vincent murmured, his eyes scanning the shadows ahead. "I'll check it out."
Before Dominic could protest, Vincent had already slipped into the shadows, leaving him alone. The silence was oppressive, the night air colder than usual. Dominic's heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing. Where was Vincent? What was taking so long?
A sudden crash broke the silence, followed by a string of curses.
Dominic's instincts kicked in. His hand went to the gun at his side, his grip tightening as he sprinted forward toward the sound. He reached the corner just in time to see Vincent duck behind a dumpster, firing shots into the darkness.
"Vincent!" Dominic shouted, his voice hoarse from the pain in his chest. He pushed forward, ignoring the burn in his muscles.
Vincent turned, his face grim. "They knew we were coming. It's a trap."
Dominic's blood ran cold as he heard the click of heavy boots against the concrete. A group of armed men emerged from the shadows, surrounding them on all sides. Their leader, a man with a cruel smile and a scar running across his cheek, stepped forward.
"Well, well, well," the man said, his voice dripping with mockery. "If it isn't Dominic Moretti. You thought you could get away from us, huh?"
Dominic's jaw clenched, but he didn't show fear. He wasn't going down without a fight. "You're too late," he growled, raising his gun. But before he could fire, one of the men lunged, knocking the weapon from his hand.
The fight erupted in an instant.
Vincent fired two quick shots, hitting one of the attackers in the chest. But there were too many of them. Dominic threw himself into the fray, landing a solid punch to one of the men's jaw. The force of it made his vision blur, but he kept swinging, not giving an inch.
"Stay close!" Vincent shouted, taking down another attacker.
Dominic grunted in acknowledgment, dodging a punch aimed at his head. His movements were sharp, calculated, but every time he landed a blow, his body screamed in protest. Blood from his earlier wound seeped through his shirt, but he couldn't afford to slow down now.
A man with a knife lunged at him, and Dominic barely managed to dodge in time. The blade grazed his arm, leaving a shallow cut. He retaliated with a brutal kick to the man's stomach, sending him sprawling to the ground.
"Vincent! Get out of here!" Dominic shouted, his voice strained. "We can't keep this up."
Vincent was already backing away, his focus solely on the men surrounding them. He shot another man, but there were still too many of them closing in.
Suddenly, the leader of the group, the one with the scar, stepped forward, holding a gun in his hand. "You're not going anywhere, Moretti," he sneered. "This is where it ends."
Dominic's eyes narrowed. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears, but he wasn't about to let this man have the satisfaction of taking him down. He reached for his backup gun hidden in the waistband of his pants.
The sound of a gunshot rang through the alley.
Dominic's vision blurred. His legs buckled beneath him as the world spun out of control. He glanced down to see blood soaking through his shirt, pooling around his waist.
"You... fucking..." Dominic tried to speak, but his words caught in his throat.
The leader laughed, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "I warned you."
Vincent, his face filled with fury, grabbed Dominic by the arm, pulling him out of the line of fire. "No! Get up, Dominic! We're not done yet!"
But Dominic's body wouldn't cooperate. His breath was shallow, his pulse thumping erratically in his ears. The pain was unbearable, and the weight of the situation was sinking in. His vision faded in and out as he struggled to stay conscious.
"Vincent... Get Elijah... out of here... Tell him I'm sorry," Dominic managed to rasp.
"Shut up, Dominic!" Vincent hissed, his voice filled with desperation. "You're not dying here. Not like this."
But the battle was far from over, and the men were closing in. Vincent shoved Dominic behind a pile of crates, using the last of his strength to protect him. They couldn't afford to lose now—not when everything was at stake.
The fight continued to rage on as the night took another dark turn.