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Palermo tightly clutched his side, where he felt the sharp pain of the wounds he had sustained while he was weakening. His back was also leaning against a large tree because he was the one who had taken the most hits, which is why he was bleeding more.

He wasn't just weakened; he also felt exhaustion, and he knew his comrades were feeling the same. They were all completely worn out. Everyone was truly exhausted, but they still managed to escape before their enemies could kill them.

In his mind, he cursed whoever was responsible for this. Frustration and anger consumed him. That's what was filling his heart.

He also held his gun tightly. The intense anger was clearly visible on his face. Someone wanted to kill him, which is how they ended up in this situation.

The pain in his mind made him utter a curse. He wouldn't forgive whoever was responsible for this. Anger and frustration were enveloping his chest.

He also had a firm grip on his gun. His face was filled with intense anger. Someone wanted to kill him, which is why they found themselves in this situation.

The moment he discovered who the culprit was and who ordered their deaths, he would make sure they faced the consequences.

He took a deep breath out of frustration. He was also catching his breath. They were being pursued. They had run a long way to escape their enemies, especially him.

He could also feel the pain from his wounds, and his hand was soaked with his own blood from the wounds he had sustained.

Despite the pain, he had the ability to endure it. He wasn't afraid of blood, even his own. After all, he had no qualms about killing, especially when it came to their enemies.

He wasn't afraid of death either, but he wouldn't accept death without knowing who was chasing them and planning to kill them. He wanted to know who had ambushed them and ordered their deaths.

He looked at his bloodstained clothes. He couldn't help but curse in his mind. If he didn't reach the nearest hospital soon, he wouldn't see the next day because he was losing too much blood.

If his wounds weren't treated promptly, he was sure he would die. He was probably already pale because he had lost so much blood.

He knew a skilled doctor who could help him. That doctor was none other than Conan Alastair, his close and trusted friend.

Conan was the only person he could think of who could help him and possibly heal his wounds because his trusted friend was also a skilled surgeon.

"Don Palermo!" He heard one of his men call out to him. The man was panting as he ran towards him. He, too, was injured.

"Our other men are gone," his man quickly reported to him upon his return.

Palermo could sense the intense fear, sadness, and concern in his man's voice. He had sent him back to double-check on the other members of their group who had been left behind during the unexpected ambush.

Palermo cursed under his breath upon hearing the news, and his face was filled with even more anger. They hadn't expected to encounter their enemies, and they weren't prepared for what had happened.

They were taken by surprise when their vehicles were suddenly blocked while they were peacefully traveling on a long road. They were immediately fired upon, and Palermo was certain that they were targeted for execution.

Fortunately, they reacted quickly and managed to escape before they were showered with bullets. They quickly disembarked from their vehicles to evade their attackers.

Moreover, they exchanged gunfire to protect themselves. However, Palermo had taken two bullet wounds while engaging in the shootout. One had hit his side, while the other had struck his left arm. The latter was just a graze, but it was still bleeding.

Palermo quickly counted his men. Only six remained. Some of his trusted and loyal followers were among them.

Their numbers had significantly diminished, which was something he couldn't fully accept. Almost ten of his men had died, and they were forced to leave their fallen comrades' bodies on the road.

Luckily, he was able to contact his cousin Samael and some friends to inform them of the ambush he and his men had experienced.

His cousin Samael would undoubtedly rush to their location, and his friends were already trying to locate him so they could find out where he was.

"Do you think you can still go on?" he asked his men seriously. They all nodded in response.

"Don Palermo, we need to leave Batangas and return to Manila as soon as possible. I'm sure our enemies have split up to search for us," one of his men said.

"Did you recognize which group they belong to or which Mafia family they work for?" he asked, his men immediately shook their heads.

"Their faces were covered with masks, so we couldn't identify them. We're not sure which group they belong to," one of them replied.

"We're sure they want to kill you, Don Palermo," another of his men said, his arm bleeding.

His men had a point, and Palermo was certain that he was now being hunted by the men who had ambushed him earlier. Men wearing masks to ensure they couldn't be identified.

He also believed that someone had ordered his death, enticing those men with a significant sum of money in exchange for his lifeless body.

Palermo was convinced that the men were driven by jealousy and intense hatred, as if they wanted to kill him. He wanted to know who had done this, who had ordered it, and which group of men had ambushed them.

His hand began to tremble with rage. He could easily defeat, eliminate, and kill their enemies. Unfortunately, they had struck first, and he hadn't expected to be ambushed on the road, especially since they were in the Philippines and not in their home country, Sicily.

They lived there. The worst part was that he had been shot. He wouldn't be surprised if bad luck followed him everywhere, and he seemed to be close to death no matter where he went.

He belonged to a dark organization within their clan. Furthermore, he was the only heir of his parents. Their family was known as one of the most influential, wealthy, and prominent criminal groups among Mafia families. The Lazarus Paragon Organization, and he could say that their group was well-known in the underworld.

Everyone in the underworld feared him. Someone was envious of him, someone wanted his position. Someone wanted to be like him, a Mafia boss that everyone feared. Yes, he was ruthless. He could kill anyone.

In addition to being a Mafia boss, he was a wealthy man. He was known as a billionaire.

He was an attractive man, desired and admired by women. He had the ability to get whatever he wanted, be it a woman or an object. He had a saying that he could get what he wanted. He wouldn't be surprised if someone wanted to kill him.

He sighed, "We should go. Let's go," he ordered his men earnestly.

They had to avoid those masked men who were chasing them and trying to kill them, especially since his loyal men were also wounded. He couldn't bear the thought of losing more of his men. Their numbers were already reduced. They were all exhausted, bleeding, and injured.

His men nodded and quickly formed a protective circle around him before they continued walking to find the road. They were still deep in the forest, and the night was falling rapidly.

They wouldn't

 be able to return to their vehicles, where the ambush had occurred, for two reasons. First, they had come quite a distance. Second, there might be enemies waiting for them if they attempt to return to their vehicles.

Each of his men held a gun, just like him, as a form of protection in case they encountered their enemies again. Palermo cursed silently as he suddenly felt a sharp pain, especially in his stomach.