Chapter 2

• Foreword
• He drove full of anger, hatred and lack of control. A dangerous combination that roared inside him. The thirst to kill that accursed grew fierce; his breathing increasingly agitated as the distance was closer to the agreed place, and the adrenaline was released firing a mad eagerness, tremendous desire to assassinate Luca with a single bullet.
• The wolf was going to blow his brains out with one shot. Nobody ordered him to interfere in his affairs. He had Luna in his power, and he wanted her under her control, as her father asked him.
• Not in the hands of the enemy, in that case, the numerale of the Italian mafia.
• The girl was his, and he would get her back tonight.
• "I've arrived, if I have everything under control I don't want them to intervene, understand?" Over, "he spoke through the comm device.
• -Got it boss. Change.
• "I'll get out of the car, K71, change and get out," he warned.
• He dug the tires into the asphalt. Darkness reigned violently the moment he turned off the convertible's lights. Alek felt the gun at his waist, but from the dash of the car he also took a colt 45, after that he got down pointing in all directions. The euphoria from the desire to blow heads that bleak July slid through his bloodstream like a snake urged to inject his venom.
• His firm steps, without hesitating a bit, reaffirmed the confidence with which he handled himself. He was ready to pull the trigger, even if he could get Frattini to show himself surrendered by handing over the supposedly defective "merchandise."
• He would kill him out of a nosy anyway.
• She was not the target, but Grace, the daughter of his mother with another man. But since a Moon appeared in the plans, the young woman became a target.
• Dimitri loved the idea of having the wrong girl, in the end she was Gregg's daughter too, and the traitor of her wife loved her like a daughter of her own.
• She had plans, wicked and dark. He flashed the image of a chestnut in his head crying out for mercy, begging him to stop the violence. The taste of her tears linked to the sweat of despair and her blood was sweet, a candy on his tongue.
• But the plan changed, he had decided to give it to her son on one condition, that he use her torture and finally get rid of her. And most importantly, that he sent his relatives photos of the girl in the worst condition, images that would cause absolute consternation.
• Aleksander did not hesitate to accept the conditions and the gift that had already been stolen.
• Konstantinov took a look at the place, at night Sardinia was not the same as in the golden hour of the day. In the twilight the blue sky succumbed to black and the summer heat to cold, he slipped a smile surrounded by the terror of that environment, fascinating to his dark soul.
• Quite a show but without lights, without spotlights, but under the cloak of darkness, as he liked.
• "Why don't you come out of your hiding place, you damn bastard!" - He spat at the top of his lungs, after the deep roar that emanated from his throat, he heard other people's footsteps, then came a cold laugh and finally the owner of everything.
• - * Oh Aleksander, smettila with gli insulti. Quindi non andremo gives ness a part. He spoke calmly, he took one last drag on the cigarette that he ended up throwing on the ground and stepping on with the toe of his shoe.
• At all times, the Russian did not take his furious gaze from him. Anger reflected in the throbbing veins on his neck and in the way his jaw clenched. Men like that he never trusted, he had to study their movements, intentions, what he planned to do, although he seemed immutable.
• Any mistake could be a trap, an ambush.
• He reviewed the place with fierce eyes, in the scarce pasture could be his furtive men,
• -Who have you come with? Speaks! He exclaimed, focused on the subject who was acting boldly.
• "Alone, I haven't broken my word, I hope you haven't either, Konstantinov," he pointed out, doubting that the Russian was unprotected. Put the gun down.
• He smirked, slowly lowered the gun, and held it steady, not stupid to drop it.
• "I'm a lone wolf tonight," he announced in a growl.
• "Or a kitten," he scoffed with a shocking laugh. Alek pursed his lips in annoyance and exasperation. Listen to me, Konstantinov, I will not give you the girl unless you deliver the merchandise that will arrive at the port on Wednesday night, is that or nothing.
• The aforementioned noticed his words, the damn guy was asking for a fortune in exchange for something that already belonged to him. Fuck.
• -What? I won't give you anything, who do you think you're talking to, sewer rat? I'm not going to please you, Luca. He assured without lowering his guard.
• "Fuck you!" "So the girl is still mine," he replied, making a movement that in micro seconds Alek could catch, managing to raise the weapon at the same time that he fired the first shot.
• In response, Luca had managed to barely brush Konstantinov's arm, which resembled an insignificant scratch from a feline lying on the ground.
• a complainer on the floor. The Russian advanced, unloading all the bullets in the body of the Italian, who in a click was carried away by death.
• The inert and bloody man was another prey of the wolf.
• He stared at her, as if he was still searching for a vestige of life to mitigate.
• "Only a fool would come alone, now you're dead," he snapped, putting the gun away.
• He communicated again through the set motioning for his men to step out of the shadows.
• In the trunk of the Italian's car, he found the girl dying and defenseless, Viktor Volkov appeared with the four armed men, who finished taking care of the girl.
• As soon as she was loaded into the back of Volkov's armored truck, Aleksander blew up the enemy's tank.
• He then he walked away and got into the BMW, starting off.
• - * Missiya byla uspeshnoy.