I WIN THIS GAME

However before Damon could act, the faint rumble of engines grew louder, cutting through the stillness like a thunderclap on the horizon.

Damon’s eyes flickered with shock as he glanced toward the source of the noise.

Suddenly, the area was flooded with the roaring sound of power bikes and sleek, black cars.

One by one, they emerged from the surrounding woods, forming a circle around the helicopter and Damon’s men.

The vehicles skidded to a halt, their engines purring menacingly, and doors swung open in unison.

Antonio’s mafia men stepped out, each one a figure of lethal precision, clad in sharp suits and dark shades. The sunlight glinted off the weapons they carried with practiced ease—automatic rifles, handguns, and more.

Their presence was a stark contrast to Damon’s men, who were now visibly shaken, their earlier confidence wavering in the face of the overwhelming force that had just arrived.

The men on power bikes circled the area like vultures, their engines growling as the