Mafia Prosecutor De Luca Blood Oath

Chapter 15: Florentine Hell

The air in the basement of Il Silenzioso froze, not from the chill of the Florence night, but from the weight of Nico’s words. "No, Maestro. This isn't the end. This is just the beginning of the real hell. And you will be in it alone."

Matteo felt that grim promise pierce the depths of his soul. He stared at Nico, searching for a flicker of doubt, but those dark blue eyes radiated only a cruel reality. He clenched the bronze key in his hand; the small object felt hot, as if it were radiating urgency.

"There is no more time," Matteo hissed, his voice returning to a flat tone, burying his emotions deep within. "Vincenzo, prepare the van. Nico, give me the details on the Volkov troop movements. I’m going to trigger a diversion at three points simultaneously. We leave tonight."

Vincenzo, though his face was deathly pale, nodded. His fingers trembled as he inserted the flash drive containing escape routes and fake identity data into his worn-out laptop. Beside him, Nico was already pulling out his satellite phone, contacting his vast network across the city. Whispers of information flowed, forming a real-time picture of the Volkov tentacles beginning to strangle Florence.

"The Arno route is the most likely. There’s a small motorboat under the Ponte Santa Trinita bridge. But the road to get there... it’s going to be hell," Nico reported, pointing at the map with his calloused thumb. "There are checkpoints on the Lungarno, and several Volkov snipers are already positioned on the roofs of the old buildings overlooking the river."

Matteo nodded. He had already anticipated this. Elias would not let him leave so easily.

"I’m going to send one last message to Isabella," Matteo said, picking up another burner phone. Vincenzo and Nico exchanged glances. They knew the risk.

"Maestro..." Vincenzo began, but Matteo raised his hand.

"I cannot let her die because of my stupidity. She needs to know. She needs to leave."

Matteo typed a short, encrypted message to Isabella’s old number. Get out of Florence. Tonight. Immediately. They know about you. Don’t try to find justice here anymore. The person you knew is dead. – L.M.

He disconnected, ignoring the urge to wait for a reply. There was no time for that.

At the Volkov Clan headquarters, Elias Volkov leaned back in his chair, his gaze focused on the digital map of Florence displayed on the wall. Red and blue dots glowed, marking his troops and Matteo’s potential escape routes. "He is a cunning prosecutor, but he still thinks like a prosecutor," Elias muttered to himself. "He will try to escape with that 'evidence.' He will bait me into chasing him."

Suddenly, the digital screen flickered. Red alarms blared at three different points on the map: the Volkov logistics warehouse in Oltrarno was on fire, the office of Judge Rossi (not Isabella, but her father) had been raided and data leaked to the public, and most shockingly, a small explosion occurred near police headquarters, causing mass panic.

"What the hell is this?!" Elias roared, slamming the table. "He’s not just baiting me. He’s openly declaring war! He’s destroying my foundations from the inside!"

Ivan, the Assassin, was already dead. His snipers in Florence were, too. Just now. A smile slowly formed on Elias’s lips—not a grin of victory this time, but the joy of a predator who had found much more challenging prey.

"Good," Elias whispered, his eyes flashing with madness. "Call all units. I want Florence searched house by house. I want every street corner monitored. I want every person breathing in this city looking for Matteo De Luca for me. And I will hunt him down myself."

Back at Il Silenzioso, the vibrations of the explosion at police headquarters were felt all the way down to the basement. Dust fell from the ceiling.

"This is it," Matteo said, putting on his tactical jacket. Inside, throwing knives were tucked neatly, and a suppressed pistol was hidden at the small of his back. A black scarf wrapped around half his face, leaving only his sharp right eye and his left eye, which held the shadows of destruction.

"The van is ready in the back tunnel," Vincenzo reported, his voice choked. "But this will be extremely dangerous, Maestro. The whole city is looking for us."

"We will go through the sewer tunnel to the Arno. Vincenzo, you will get in the van and drive through the busiest streets, acting as a decoy to draw attention. Then leave the van at the Ponte Vecchio and disappear into the crowd," Matteo ordered. "Nico, you’re with me. We’re going to secure the boat."

Nico nodded. He handed him a Glock 17. "The path to the Arno will be a battlefield, Maestro. Are you ready?"

Matteo stared at the pistol in his hand. Cold, heavy, and lethal. "I am more ready than I ever imagined, Nico."

They climbed the concrete stairs to the upper floor, passing bookshelves that now felt like a graveyard of memories. Before Vincenzo left, Matteo patted the old man’s shoulder. "Stay alive, Vincenzo. We’ll meet in Switzerland."

Vincenzo nodded, tears welling in his eyes. "Be careful, Maestro. Lorenzo would be proud of you."

Matteo did not answer. He only nodded, then turned to Nico. "Let’s go."

They slipped out through the bookstore’s back door, entering a dark, musty alley. Police sirens wailed in the distance, drawing closer. The sound of sporadic gunfire began to echo. The city of Florence had turned into a war zone.

Nico led the way, his old but agile body moving like a shadow. Matteo followed, every step calculated, his eyes scanning every dark corner.

They reached the sewer tunnel. The fishy smell of dirty water and mud stung their noses. Matteo didn't care. This was his path.

However, just as they were about to step further, a silhouette appeared from the darkness at the end of the tunnel. It wasn't a Volkov or one of his dogs.

It was Isabella Rossi.

She stood there, panting, in a worn coat with swollen eyes filled with determination. In her hand, she held a small bag.

"Matteo!" she shouted, her voice raspy, ignoring Matteo’s warning. "I knew you wouldn't leave without burning everything down! I’m here to help you!"

Nico cursed. "Damn it! She’s ruining our plan!"

Matteo froze. He looked back, feeling the vibrations of Volkov’s footsteps drawing closer. Isabella had brought herself into the hell he was trying to protect her from.

"Isabella! What are you doing here?!" Matteo snapped, his voice filled with anger mixed with desperation.

Isabella did not back down. She looked at Matteo’s face, burning behind the scarf, and the resolve in her eyes hardened.

"You think I’d let you face that monster alone?" Isabella retorted, her voice firm despite trembling. "I’m not running. Not this time."

Matteo stared into Isabella’s eyes, then behind her, toward the flashlight beams and the sound of boots drawing closer. He was now caught between two choices: save Isabella and jeopardize his mission, or leave her to die for the sake of revenge.

Nico touched Matteo’s shoulder. "Maestro. She is a burden that will drown you. Make your decision."

Matteo felt the turmoil in his chest, fire and ice fighting each other. He had already lost everything. Could he let Isabella be the next victim?

"I... I can't..."

Suddenly, the sound of a gunshot rang out loudly from behind Isabella. Matteo and Nico flinched. A bullet ricocheted off the stone wall beside Isabella’s head, leaving a small crack. Matteo turned and saw the figure of Elias Volkov standing at the mouth of the tunnel, a triumphant grin forming on his face. "Welcome back to hell, Maestro. Now you will learn what it feels like to lose everything right before your eyes."