Chapter 119 MY RAINA.
\~~~LUCIANO.
The moment I stepped out of the car, I knew something was wrong.
The air was thick, charged with danger, and my gut screamed at me.
My men were out there, fully armed, and I had escalated things without thinking. The Volkovs would not wait. I should have controlled myself and stayed in my hand. And now, I was paying the price.
Gunfire erupted before I even took two steps. My ears rang as bullets tore through the air. Smoke filled my lungs, and the smell of burning asphalt hit me like a hammer. My heart pounded so hard I thought it would shatter my ribs. Chaos had arrived, and I was right in the center of it.
“Stay down! Cover each other!” I shouted, my voice rough, barely carrying over the gunfire.
I ducked behind a low wall, scanning the area. My eyes landed on one of my men, screaming as a sniper’s bullet grazed his arm. Instantly, I was moving, dragging him to safety, firing my own weapon with deadly precision.
Bodies were already down, mine and theirs. A wave of anger crashed over me, hot and blinding, followed by a spike of panic that clawed at my gut. But worse than that was the guilt, heavy as lead.
This is my fault. I escalated things without thinking. My men are paying for it. I'd let my rage over Raina, over the hurt, spill into this war.
Now good men were bleeding because of me.
I couldn't dwell on it. Not now.
I popped up from cover, squeezing off two shots at a shadow moving across the yard. One hit, I heard the grunt and thud as the guy dropped.
“Flank left!” I bellowed, my voice raw over the din. “Push them back to the fence!” My men moved as I'd trained them. Gabriel was barking orders to a squad on the right, while Viktor was covering the rear.
But inside, my mind was a storm. Rage boiled within me for dragging them into this.
I'd been the one to order the hit on Volkov's warehouse, the one to ignore the consigliere's warnings. Strategic now, I told myself.
Get them out alive. Minimize the body count on our side.
I darted forward, my boots crunching over broken glass, dodging a burst of automatic fire that splintered the crate beside me.
Chips of wood flew into my face, but I kept moving.
Up ahead, Marco, one of my newer guys, was pinned down behind a truck, firing blindly.
“Marco, fall back!” I yelled, spotting two of Volkov's rats closing in.
He didn't hear over the noise, too focused on the shooter ahead. I charged, my legs burning, and tackled him just as bullets tore into the spot where he'd been. We hit the ground hard, rolling into a ditch. “You good?” I gasped, checking him over. A graze on his arm, blood soaking his sleeve, but he nodded, eyes wide.
“Yeah, boss. Thank you.”
I clapped his shoulder and hauled him up. “Cover me. We are getting out of here.”
Concern twisted in my chest, these weren't just soldiers, they were family.
Men who'd trusted me to lead smart, not suicidal. I scanned the field and three of ours were down that I could see one writhing in pain, another still.
“Medic to the east side!” I shouted into my radio, directing help while firing at an enemy creeping along the wall.
My shots missed, damn wind or my shaking hands, but it bought time.
The guilt gnawed deeper as I reloaded, the click of the magazine echoing in my ears. Those bastards from Volkov deserved every bullet, but I hated them less than I hated myself right now.
Why hadn't I held back?
I'd let my temper flare, throw threats instead of playing it cool.
Raina's face flashed in my mind, her eyes full of hurt, and how everything had spiraled from there.
My impulsiveness had painted a target on all of us. This bloodshed? On my hands.
If I'd just talked to her, fixed what broke us, maybe I wouldn't be here, watching my world burn.
No time for regrets. Another explosion rocked the ground, closer this time, the shockwave knocking me sideways. I caught myself on a barrel, my ears ringing louder.
Shrapnel zipped past, one piece slicing my cheek and warm blood trickled down. I wiped it away, tasting salt and iron.
Fear flickered at the edges of my mind, cold and unwelcome. What if this was it? What if I didn't make it back to find her, to beg forgiveness?
But I shoved it down. My men needed a boss who didn't flinch.
I pushed forward, weaving through the smoke. Up ahead, two of Volkov's goons had Joey cornered, unloading clips into his cover. Joey was tough, but outnumbered. I didn't think before I dove into the open, firing as I went.
One dropped, clutching his leg. The other turned on me, eyes wild. Bullets whizzed past my head, so close I felt the heat.
I returned fire, hitting him in the center mass. He crumpled. “Joey! Move!” I grabbed his collar, yanking him toward safer ground.
We stumbled behind a forklift, his weight heavy on my shoulder. “Boss, you're bleeding,” he panted, nodding at my cheek.
“It is nothing. Stay low.” My breath came in heavy gasps, chest heaving. The air was thick, choking. Another round of fire pinned us down, dirt kicking up around our feet. I shielded Joey with my body, peeking out to spot the shooter.
The fight dragged on, minutes feeling like hours. I directed from the shadows, pulling strings to turn the tide.
“Gabriel, suppress the north! Viktor, get the wounded out!' My voice cracked from shouting, my throat dry. Rage and strategy warred inside me, fury at the enemy, but a deeper self-loathing for starting this mess.
If only I'd reined in that fire after Raina left. The divorce papers, her ring on the table, broke something in me.
Pushed me to face Volkov unprepared instead of facing my own pain. Now, every scream from my men echoed that failure.
However, through the haze, I spotted Viktor. He was in the open, dragging a wounded soldier, Petro, his leg shot badly, toward cover. Viktor's focus was all on the guy, not scanning for threats. My gut twisted because there on the rooftop across the yard was a glint. A sniper.
The crosshair lined up, steady on Viktor's back. Time slowed and my panic spiked, sharp as a knife.
Viktor had been with me through everything, the rise, the losses, even pulling me back from the edge after Raina.
I couldn't lose him. Not like this.
I acted on instinct, no plan, just raw need. “Viktor!” I roared, but he didn't hear. I sprinted from my spot, legs pumping, ignoring the fire that erupted around me. Bullets tore through the air, one clipping my sleeve.
Closer, Viktor turned at the last second, his eyes widening. I slammed into him, shoving him and Petro hard to the side. We tumbled into the dirt, a heap of limbs.
Then it hit. A hammer blow to my side,
just below the ribs. The bullet punched through, fire blooming instantly and fierce. Pain exploded, and white-hot, stole my breath.
Shock froze me for a heartbeat, warm wetness spreading, and the world tilting. I gasped, hand pressing to the wound, blood slick between fingers.
But adrenaline roared, keeping me up.
I pushed to my knees, pistol raised, scanning for the sniper. “You okay?’' I grunted to Viktor, voice strained.
He stared, face pale. “Boss… what the hell? You’ve been hit!”
“I am fine. Get Petro out,” my priority was to keep them safe, alive.
The pain burned deeper, vision blurring at the edges, but the fight raged on.
I staggered to my feet, blood soaking my shirt, pressing the radio.
The ambush wasn't over, and Raina's face haunted me. Would I see her again, or bleed out here in the dirt?
Viktor’s hands were steady, but his grip was iron as he returned and held me back. “We need to get you out of here!” His voice cracked, sharp and urgent.
“I’m not leaving! Not now! We are n…” I tried to argue, my chest heaving, but Viktor cut me off.
“You are getting out of here!” he hollered, his voice echoing over the chaos, leaving no room for argument.
I glared at him, furious. “No! I need to meet Volkov! I can’t just…”
Before I could finish, Viktor snatched the gun from my hands. The weight left my fingers like a burning absence. His eyes, dark and wet, stared straight into mine, raw and pleading.
“I will kill him,” he growled, trembling, his hands balling into fists.
“This is not your fight,” I said quietly, but there was steel beneath the softness.
“I. Will. Kill. Him,” his hissed, every word punctuated with pain and rage, his voice breaking. Tears slipped down his face, unbidden, and I felt the edges of control slipping.
Viktor didn’t flinch. He didn’t argue further. Instead, he leaned closer, his forehead almost touching mine, and whispered, “So, leave this for me, please, Luciano. You won’t survive this rage. Let me take you out, and then leave me to deal with him. Not you.”
“Vik…” My voice cracked, a mixture of disbelief and exhaustion.
“Your wife is waiting for you, at home.”
“R… Raina?” I coughed, blood spilling from the corner of my mouth, bitter and warm against my teeth.
“Yes.” His eyes were steady, unwavering, and I couldn’t look away. “She is safe. But she needs you alive. You can’t do this and go to her like this.”
I blinked rapidly, the adrenaline in my veins mixing with pain and confusion. For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The war, the screams, and the chaos all faded into a distant roar.
I wanted to answer him. I wanted to roar, to tell him that I wasn’t finished, and that I would be okay but my throat felt heavy, and my lips numb. The world darkened at the edges, and my heart felt impossibly heavy.
The last thing I saw before the darkness threatened to swallow me was Viktor’s face, calm, resolute, urging me to fight. His eyes, so steady, and so unwavering, pulled at something deep inside me.
Not the rage, not the hatred, not even the pain, but her. Raina.
My Raina.