The armored Mercedes-Maybach S680 tore north along the West Side Highway, escorted by two blacked-out Cadillac Escalades carrying Santoro heavy tactical operators. Rain lashed against the reinforced ballistic glass in driving gray sheets, the wipers slapping in rhythmic, frantic intervals against the windshield. Elena sat in the rear passenger seat, her heart still hammering from the adrenaline of Casa Nostra. Marco sat beside her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders,…
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