The Wolf’s Trap

The city was alive with the hum of nightlife, neon lights flickering like stars against the dark sky. Alessio Moretti stood in the shadows of an alley, his sharp eyes scanning the bustling streets. His black coat was pulled tight against the chill, but the cold didn’t bother him. His mind was focused on one thing—Marco.

Marco had been his right-hand man for years, his most trusted ally. But lately, something had felt off. Marco had been distant, secretive. Alessio had brushed it off as stress, but now he wasn’t so sure. Earlier that evening, Marco had sent him a cryptic message: “Meet me at the old warehouse. It’s urgent.”

Alessio’s gut told him to stay away, but loyalty—or maybe stubbornness—pushed him forward. He couldn’t ignore Marco. Not yet.

The warehouse loomed ahead, its broken windows and rusted walls a stark contrast to the glittering city around it. Alessio’s hand instinctively went to the gun hidden beneath his coat as he approached the entrance. The heavy door creaked as he pushed it open, the sound echoing through the empty space.

Inside, the air was thick with dust and silence. The only light came from a single flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling. Alessio’s eyes adjusted quickly, scanning the room for any sign of Marco. His heart pounded, but his face remained calm. He had been in dangerous situations before. This was no different.

“Marco?” he called out, his voice steady.

No answer.

Alessio stepped further into the warehouse, his boots crunching against the debris on the floor. His instincts screamed at him to leave, but he pushed the feeling down. He needed answers.

Then, he saw it—a figure slumped against the far wall. Alessio’s breath caught as he recognized Marco’s familiar frame. He rushed forward, his heart sinking as he saw the blood staining Marco’s shirt.

“Marco!” Alessio dropped to his knees beside his friend, his hands trembling as he checked for a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. “Hang on, I’ll get you out of here.”

Marco’s eyes fluttered open, his face pale and sweaty. “Alessio… I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“What happened?” Alessio demanded, his voice tight with worry and anger.

Before Marco could answer, the sound of footsteps echoed through the warehouse. Alessio’s head snapped up, his hand reaching for his gun. But it was too late.

The lights flicked on, blinding him for a moment. When his vision cleared, he saw them—a dozen men, all armed, surrounding him. At the front stood a man Alessio knew all too well: Dante Russo, also known as “The Wolf.”

Dante was tall and lean, with sharp features and cold, calculating eyes. He wore a tailored suit, his hands tucked casually into his pockets as if he were at a business meeting, not a trap. His smile was slow and dangerous, like a predator toying with its prey.

“Alessio Moretti,” Dante said, his voice smooth and mocking. “I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

Alessio’s jaw tightened as he rose to his feet, his gun still in hand. He glanced down at Marco, who was barely conscious, and then back at Dante. “What do you want, Dante?”

Dante’s smile widened. “What do I want? Simple. I want you out of the way. You’ve been a thorn in my side for too long, Alessio. It’s time to remove you.”

Alessio’s grip on his gun tightened, but he didn’t fire. He was outnumbered, and he knew it. His mind raced, trying to find a way out. “You think this is going to work? You think killing me will solve your problems?”

Dante chuckled, a low, menacing sound. “Oh, I’m not going to kill you. Not yet. First, I want to see you suffer. I want to break you, piece by piece.”

Alessio’s eyes flicked to Marco, who was struggling to stay conscious. “And him? What did you do to him?”

Dante’s smile turned cruel. “Marco? Oh, he’s been very helpful. You see, he’s the one who led you here. He’s the one who set the trap.”

Alessio’s heart sank. He looked down at Marco, his chest tightening with betrayal. “Marco… why?”

Marco’s eyes filled with tears, his voice weak and broken. “I didn’t have a choice, Alessio. He threatened my family. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”

Alessio’s mind reeled. Marco, his most trusted friend, had betrayed him. The pain of it cut deeper than any knife. But there was no time to process it. Dante’s men were closing in, their guns trained on him.

Dante stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with triumph. “You see, Alessio, this is what happens when you trust people. They disappoint you. They betray you. And now, you’re going to pay the price.”

Alessio’s jaw clenched, his anger boiling beneath the surface. He wanted to lash out, to fight back, but he knew it would be suicide. He needed to think, to find a way out.

“You’re wrong, Dante,” Alessio said, his voice cold and steady. “You think you’ve won, but this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

Dante’s smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. “Brave words, Alessio. But words won’t save you.”

Alessio’s eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape. He noticed a stack of crates near the wall, a possible cover. If he could make it there, he might have a chance.

But before he could move, Dante raised his hand, signaling his men. “Take him.”

The men surged forward, and Alessio fired, taking down two before he was forced to dive behind a nearby pillar. Bullets ricocheted around him, the sound deafening. His heart pounded as he reloaded, his mind racing.

He couldn’t stay here. He had to move.

With a deep breath, Alessio lunged from his cover, firing as he ran. He managed to take down another man before reaching the crates. He crouched behind them, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

Dante’s voice echoed through the warehouse, filled with amusement. “You can’t hide forever, Alessio. Come out, and maybe I’ll make it quick.”

Alessio’s mind raced. He needed a plan, and fast. He glanced around, his eyes landing on a metal pipe lying on the floor. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

As Dante’s men closed in, Alessio grabbed the pipe and swung it with all his strength, knocking one of the men to the ground. He grabbed the man’s gun and fired, taking down another. But there were too many of them.

A bullet grazed his arm, and he hissed in pain, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He fought with everything he had, his movements fueled by anger and desperation.

But it wasn’t enough.

Dante’s men surrounded him, their guns pointed at his chest. Alessio’s breath came in ragged gasps as he raised his hands, his gun now empty. He was trapped.

Dante stepped forward, his smile triumphant. “It’s over, Alessio.”

Alessio’s eyes burned with defiance. “You’re wrong, Dante. This isn’t over. Not yet.”

Dante’s smile faded, replaced by a look of cold determination. “We’ll see.”

As Dante’s men moved in to grab him, Alessio’s mind raced. He wasn’t going down without a fight. But for now, he had to play along. He had to survive.

The chapter ended with Alessio being dragged away, his eyes locked on Dante’s. The Wolf thought he had won, but Alessio knew one thing—this was far from over.

And when he got free, Dante Russo would regret ever crossing him.