Chapter 12 Chapter Twelve
Nikolai’s POV
I thought after the incident at the Cafe shop she would want to go home, but no, she wanted to buy a few things from the mall, I wanted to decline but Matteo said he could go inside with her, so I sat in the car waiting for them like a driver waiting for his employers.
By the time we pulled into the driveway of the mansion, the city lights had already faded into a blur of gold and gray behind us. Elena had fallen asleep somewhere between the last turn and the front gates, her head leaning lightly against the window, her breathing soft and even.
For a moment, I just sat there, staring. The air around her felt… still. Peaceful. Something I hadn’t felt in years.
“Boss?” Matteo’s voice cut through the quiet. “You want me to..."
“I’ll handle it,” I said, opening the door.
The night air was cool, biting at the edges of my skin as I walked around the car. When I opened the passenger door, Elena didn’t stir. She was completely out, her lashes fanned across her cheeks, her lips parted slightly in sleep.
“Hey Angel,” I murmured, touching her shoulder lightly. “We’re home.”
No response. I sighed under my breath. “Of course, she would be tired."
Matteo smirked from the other side. “I can carry her if..."
I shot him a look that made him lift both hands in surrender. “Just saying.”
So I did it myself. Carefully, I slipped my arms under her, one beneath her knees, the other supporting her back, and lifted her from the seat. She was lighter than I expected, her warmth seeping into my chest as she unconsciously leaned closer, her hand brushing against my collar. Something twisted deep inside me. Something dangerous and unwanted.
The grand doors opened before I could stop thinking about it, the guards stepping aside silently as I carried her inside. The mansion was quiet, too quiet. Rafael wasn’t home. Neither was our father. The lights in the main hall were dimmed, casting shadows across the marble floors.
I should’ve taken her straight to her room, left her there, and gone to handle the operation Matteo had texted me about earlier. But the thought of leaving her alone in this empty mansion didn’t sit right.
So I stayed.
I placed her gently on the couch in the guest lounge, pulling off her heels and setting them aside. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake. I sat down across from her, elbows on my knees, trying to remind myself that this wasn’t my problem.
But she looked so damn peaceful. So out of place in this house full of secrets and bloodlines and greed. My phone buzzed again.
Matteo: Operation in 30. Also, your princess is there.
I didn’t need to ask which one he meant.
Gianna Russo. Daughter of one of the oldest Mafia families in Italy. Beautiful, sharp-tongued, and most importantly politically convenient. She was the only woman I’d managed to keep around for more than a few weeks. But even then, it wasn’t because of love. It was survival. Another message came seconds later.
Matteo: She is asking where you are.
I glanced at Elena one last time. She shifted in her sleep, her hand sliding down the blanket, her face relaxing completely. I exhaled slowly. “You’re safe,” I whispered before standing. “Don’t make me regret this.”
Then I turned on my heels and left her. Matteo was already waiting outside.
"Gianna said..."
"Talk about her later, I need info on the operation." Matteo just nodded and kept briefing me on the operation, while I drove. The drive to the dockside warehouse was short, but the silence in my car was loud. My mind wasn’t on the mission, it was still back at the mansion, with the sleeping girl I shouldn’t have been thinking about.
When we arrived there, it was quiet, too quiet for a night meant to be routine. A single overhead bulb hummed above us, casting pale light across crates stacked like monuments to the criminal world I ruled. Matteo stood to my left, sharp-eyed and tense. To my right lingered one of our newer men, Leon, a man I already didn’t trust, but he was under Rafael's wings, so I couldn't kick him out just like that, even when I don't trust him.
His eyes kept moving. Not scanning the perimeter. Avoiding mine.
A guilty man never looks his boss in the eye.
I folded my arms, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make him sweat. “Leon,” I said softly, “why do you keep glancing at the entrance? Expecting someone?”
He swallowed, hard enough that I heard it. “No, sir. Just making sure everything’s secure.”
Matteo snorted under his breath. He didn’t believe a word of it either.
I took a step forward, letting my presence fill the space. “You’re twitchy. Nervous. Like a man waiting for something to happen. Like another Judas waiting to betray his master,” I paused, tilting my head. “Or someone.”
Leon’s jaw tightened. “I’m loyal, boss. You know that.”
No. I didn’t.
Before I could push him further, before I could decide whether to break him or let him talk, I felt it.
That shift in the air.
That sudden pressure.
The unmistakable chill that runs down your spine when danger walks into the room.
Matteo’s eyes narrowed. “Nikolai..."
A metallic click echoed from somewhere behind the crates. I recognized the sound immediately. Gun safety is being released.
“Get down!” I barked, but the command came a second too late. The warehouse erupted. Windows shattered inward in a scream of glass. Bullets tore through the air, ripping into wood, metal, and flesh. The shockwave of sound slammed into me like a punch. Matteo shoved Leon behind a stack of pallets, but my eyes were locked on the shadows moving through the broken entrance.
The rival family.
Of course.
Only they would storm Rossetti's warehouse with such arrogance.
“Rasmus!” someone shouted from outside. “Kill him first!”
I was their target.
I didn’t flinch. I raised my gun, returning fire with precise shots that dropped two men instantly. They wanted my head, they were welcome to try. What they should know is that I will never go down easily.
But I kept my focus on Leon. He was pale. Too pale. Not panicked, not angry, and not even surprised. A man who expects betrayal doesn’t look shocked when it arrives.
“You planned this,” I snarled over the gunfire. “You sold us out.”
“I didn’t!” Leon grabbed a gun from the floor with trembling hands. “I swear..."
A bullet sliced through the air and he ducked, but I didn’t move. Because the moment I turned toward the attackers, a single, searing pain ripped through my upper arm. The world jolted. My grip faltered.
Heat flooded my shoulder, then blood, warm and thick, ran down my folded black sleeve.
Matteo’s shout tore through the chaos.
“Nikolai!”
I staggered back, pressing a hand to the wound. The pain was sharp, almost blinding, but I refused to drop my gun. I would die once in their fantasies; I wouldn’t die tonight.
But the warehouse was losing shape, blurring at the edges, the shadows moving too quickly. Matteo appeared at my side, grabbing my uninjured arm and pulling me behind a stack of metal containers.
“You’re hit,” he hissed, eyes blazing with panic he tried to hide.
“I noticed,” I growled through clenched teeth. “Let go.”
“Like hell I will,” he snapped. “Stay down.” Another hail of bullets slammed into the crates above us. Splinters rained down like needles. Matteo fired back blindly, covering our retreat. Leon froze a few meters away, torn between running and proving he wasn’t a traitor.
“Move!” Matteo barked at him. “Help us!” But Leon didn’t move. I saw the truth in his stillness. But what I couldn't tell was if he was helping the Salvatores’ family or if it was an insider he was helping.
“I’ll deal with him later,” I said, pushing myself upright.
“No, you won’t,” Matteo gritted out. “Because if you stand right now, you’re going to bleed out, or they’re going to put another hole in you.”
He looped his arm around my waist, something no one else would dare to do, and forced me toward the side exit. Every step sent sharp pain shooting through my arm, warm blood dripping onto the concrete.
I hated the weakness. Hated being touched. Hated being dragged like I wasn’t the most dangerous man in this city. But I let him, when I remember those words of the one man who hated me most in the world.
A living rat is stronger than a dead lion.
Because Matteo was the only person I trusted not to stab me while pretending to save me.
We reached the side door just as another group burst into the warehouse, shouting orders. Matteo shoved the door open and pulled me into the cold night air. The gunfire behind us grew distant, swallowed by the pounding of my pulse.
“Nikolai, stay awake,” Matteo warned, tightening his grip as I stumbled.
“Let go,” I breathed.
“No,” he said fiercely. “Not tonight.” I looked back at the warehouse, flames beginning to catch on the broken crates, shadows moving inside like ghosts. Whoever betrayed me was still in there. Still breathing, but not for long. Because I know I will track him down
As Matteo dragged me toward the waiting car, pain burning through every heartbeat, I made myself a promise: When my arm healed, when I could lift a gun again, I would find out exactly who sold me out.
And I would show them what it meant to betray Nikolai Rossetti Romano
“Shit,” Matteo cursed, returning fire. “You okay?”
“Just a scratch,” I grunted, pressing my palm against the bleeding wound. “Finish it, and tell Gianna I won't see her tonight.”
He looked at me. Gianna was always the one taking care of me. Whenever I got these injuries, apart from being the princess of one of the mafia lords, she was a doctor.
We wrapped it up quickly, leaving before the sirens reached the pier. By the time I got back to the mansion, the adrenaline had started to wear off, and the dull throb in my arm grew worse.
I slipped in through the side entrance, not wanting to wake the staff or Elena. My jacket stuck to the wound, the blood seeping through the fabric. I was halfway up the stairs when a soft voice stopped me.
“Nikolai…”