My Billionaire Mafia Husband Banished Me For Treason—Then His Dying Bodyguard Brought The Video Proving I Bleed Only For Him

The terminal erupted into a thunderous crossfire before Albert’s hand even hit his hip. The deafening roar of automatic weapons ricocheted off the corrugated iron roof like continuous thunder.

Darius moved with savage, fluid speed. He shoved Evelyn behind the reinforced wheel well of the lead SUV, drawing his twin sidearms and dropping two of Albert’s snipers off the catwalk in four precise shots.

"Stay down!" Darius roared over the deafening cacophony of gunfire.

"I'm not leaving you!" Evelyn shouted back, ducking as a volley of rounds shredded the SUV’s windshield into spiderwebs of safety glass.

Romano’s men fanned out across the freight platforms, laying down heavy covering fire with submachine guns. Concrete chips flew like shrapnel as Albert’s loyalists scrambled for cover behind stacks of wooden pallets and industrial machinery.

Darius didn't wait behind the vehicle. He charged across the open killing floor, ducking beneath a forklift and firing upward toward the stairs.

A round caught him high in the left bicep, tearing through the muscle and spraying scarlet across the concrete. Darius didn't even stumble; the adrenaline coursing through his veins had turned his nervous system to pure titanium.

He vaulted onto the metal stairs, his boots clanging against the iron treads.

"Albert!" Darius bellowed, his voice cutting through the gunfire like a siren.

Albert’s personal bodyguard stepped into the stairwell, raising a combat shotgun. Before he could chamber a round, a high-velocity slug struck him through the throat from sixty yards away.

Darius glanced back. Lorenzo Romano stood calmly beside the SUV, lowering a long-range tactical rifle with a thin smirk. "Go get your uncle, Costa!"

Darius reached the gantry landing in three seconds flat.

Albert was scrambling toward the fire exit at the rear of the catwalk, clutching a leather briefcase containing his emergency passports and bearer bonds.

Darius caught him by the collar of his tailored overcoat, slamming him backward into the chain-link safety fence with enough force to rattle the entire structural frame.

The briefcase flew out of Albert’s grip, plunging thirty feet into the darkness below.

"Look at me," Darius snarled, pressing the hot barrel of his pistol directly beneath Albert’s chin. "Look at your boy, Uncle."

Albert hung in his grip, gasping for breath, his aristocratic veneer completely peeling away to reveal the terrified, pathetic coward underneath.

"Darius... please," Albert wheezed, his hands clawing at Darius’s iron wrists. "You don't understand the pressures... the Romano family was squeezing us... I did it to preserve the bloodline!"

"You killed my father," Darius whispered, his voice dangerously soft against the dying echoes of the firefight below.