The rain fell heavily over the streets of Palermo.
The streets were almost deserted. All the shops were closed, and the light from the street lamps reflected on the wet roads.
A black car stopped near an old building.
Three men wearing black clothes stepped out of the car. Their faces were covered.
One of them looked at his watch.
“He’s coming,” he said.
Another man checked his gun.
“Are you sure this is the right place?”
“Yes. Our boss wants Dante Moretti dead tonight.”
They hid in the darkness and waited.
A few minutes later, another black car arrived.
The door opened, and a tall man stepped out.
He wore a black shirt and black trousers. An expensive watch was on his wrist. His dark hair was slightly wet from the rain.
His face showed no emotion.
His name was Dante Moretti.
At thirty, Dante was one of the most powerful mafia bosses in Italy. He controlled a large criminal empire, and many powerful men feared him.
He was rich, dangerous, and ruthless.
He trusted very few people.
But he never forgave betrayal.
Dante adjusted his watch and looked at his phone.
His personal assistant, Adrian Costa, had sent him several messages.
Dante called him.
“Where are you?” Adrian asked immediately.
“I'm on my way back.”
“Don, please be careful. We received information that someone is planning to attack you.”
Dante smiled coldly.
“Tell them to come.”
“Sir, I'm being serious.”
“So am I. Send two men to the warehouse. I'll meet you there.”
“Understood, Don.”
Dante ended the call and put his phone away.
He began walking towards his car.
Suddenly, he heard a sound behind him.
Before he could turn around, a man stepped out of the darkness.
“Good evening, Moretti.”
Dante slowly turned.
“Who are you?”
The man laughed.
“You won't remember my name.”
He raised his gun.
BANG!
The bullet struck Dante in the chest, near his shoulder.
Dante stumbled backwards.
“Fuck!”
He pressed his hand against the wound.
Blood began spreading across his black shirt.
Three more men appeared around him.
One of them smiled.
“Your time is over, Dante.”
Dante tried to reach for his gun.
But the pain was becoming unbearable.
He pulled out his weapon and fired at one of the men.
The man fell to the ground.
The others immediately hid behind a nearby car.
“Kill him!” one of them shouted.
Dante fired again, preventing them from approaching him.
Then he ran into a narrow street.
He could hear the men chasing him.
His breathing became heavy.
He pressed his hand harder against his chest.
“Not tonight,” he whispered.
He had survived many attacks in his life.
He wasn't ready to die in a dark street like a helpless man.
But his vision began to blur.
He needed help.
And he needed it immediately.
To be continued...