Gunfire shattered the night again.

Alessandro De Luca moved forward from the gates like he has been prepared for this ages ago. His rifle raised, his eyes hard as steel. Smoke curled around him, fire painting his sharp features in orange light. He didn’t run, he didn’t rush. He walked, slow, controlled, like every bullet that screamed past him had been ordered to miss.

“Kill him!” Ricardo’s lieutenant on the far side bellowed, spittle flying as panic cracked his voice.

Ricardo’s ...