Chapter 226 No More Looking Over Shoulders

Chapter 226 No More Looking Over Shoulders
Rico watched from a distance as the old warehouse stood engulfed in flames, the fire devouring the building piece by piece as thick smoke rose into the night sky.

The deep orange glow reflected in his eyes while sparks drifted upward like dying stars.

Several of his men stood silently behind him, celebrating as they shook each other's hands and shared a hug. The hunt that had consumed their lives for years was finally over, and the victory that followed felt overwhelming.

Rico slipped both hands into his pockets and continued staring at the burning structure, breathing slowly, head deep in thought.

Somewhere inside that warehouse were the remnants of Marco’s operation—his weapons, plans, and his secrets. All of it was turning to ash.

A few feet away, Ezio glanced toward him. He took quiet steps towards where he stood. “You okay, brother?”

Rico didn’t answer immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the flames. The truth was, he wasn’t sure how he felt. For years, the rage he felt toward Marco had been the only thing keeping him moving.

The need to find Marco and make him pay. The need to end it. But now it was done and Marco was dead, the satisfaction he had imagined never came.

Instead, he felt tired, and extremely exhausted. Like a weight he had carried for years had finally slipped from his shoulders.

After a long moment, he exhaled slowly. “It’s over.”

Ezio sighed and nodded quietly. “Yeah, it is," he replied, his gaze turning towards the flames.

Rico looked back at the warehouse one final time before turning away. The fire crackled behind him. The chapter of his life that had been stained by Marco’s madness was finally closed.

As he headed toward the waiting vehicles, his thoughts drifted elsewhere. To Calla and the way she had cried in his arms after the explosion. On the nights she sat beside his hospital bed refusing to leave. The way she looked at him whenever she thought he wasn’t paying attention.

A small smile touched his lips and he so desperately wanted to go home. Not to the mansion, or another meeting. He wanted to go home to her.

The realization made something warm settle in his chest.

Behind him, the warehouse groaned loudly as part of the roof finally gave way. The structure collapsed inward, sending a shower of sparks into the night sky.

Rico didn’t look back. He had spent enough time looking at the past. It was time to move forward.



As soon as Rico stepped into the room, his eyes met with that of Calla. She sat on the edge of the bed, fingers tapping the others, and her back set straight.

He furrowed his brows. He wasn't really keen on seeing her up at this late hour of the night. She should be sleeping.

Her gaze turned in time and locked with Rico. And a sigh of relief slipped past her lips as she saw him.

Rico closed the door behind him. Before he could turn back around, he was pulled into a tight hug. The force of it almost made him stumble.

Calla buried her face against his chest and wrapped both arms around him tightly. Rico immediately felt her trembling, he slowly rested a hand on the back of her head, and the other wrapped around her waist.

“You came back,” she whispered. The words were simple, but they struck Rico harder than any punch ever could.

A small smile touched his lips as he rubbed her hair, planting a soft kiss on her head. “I told you I would.”

Calla let out a shaky laugh that sounded suspiciously close to another sob. She lowered her gaze for a moment and shook her head.

“I was scared," she said, biting her bottom lip.

Rico’s expression softened. “I know.”

“No, I mean really scared.” Her voice cracked. “Every time someone walked past the hallway, I thought it was you. Or when I heard the bell ringing from downstairs, I kept thinking it would be bad news. I kept imagining all the things that could have happened to you.”

Rico reached for her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. “But none of those things happened.”

Calla stared at their joined hands and she said nothing. Then she suddenly stiffened. Her hands moved from around his waist and grabbed his shirt instead.

Rico frowned, peering worriedly down at her. “What is it?”

She pulled away just enough to look up at him. Her eyes immediately caught his bruised face and swollen jaw, and the dried blood covering parts of his clothes. 

She hadn't noticed it when he walked in because of the dim light in the room.

The color drained from her face. “Oh my God," she gasped. Before Rico could react, her hands were already moving over him frantically. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m not.”

“Rico—”

“I’m fine," he replied, trying to get her to stop.

“There’s blood everywhere," she said, tears already filling her eyes.

Rico glanced down at himself before looking back at her. Most of the blood belonged to Marco, and the rest belonged to the men who had crossed his path tonight. Very little of it was his.

Calla looked ready to cry again. And the sight made something soften inside him.

Without thinking, he reached up and cupped her cheek. “I’m fine, Lyra.”

Her lips parted slightly. She searched his face as if trying to determine whether he was lying. Then she finally asked the question he knew had been torturing her all night. “What happened?”

Rico stared at her for a moment before answering. “Marco is dead.”

Calla froze. She just stared at him, unmoving. The words seemed to hang between them, as if her mind couldn’t quite process them.

Then her eyes slowly filled with tears. It wasn't the fearful tears he had seen these past months, or the tears she cried inside that field when he pulled her from the box.

These were different.

Her hand flew to her mouth, and a broken sob escaped her. The sound pierced straight through Rico’s chest. Before he knew it, she had thrown herself against him again.

This time she cried openly.

Rico held her through every second of it. He didn’t rush her, didn't tell her to calm down, or tell her everything would be okay.

The truth was that she couldn't believe it. Marco was dead. The nightmare that had followed them for weeks was finally over. No more looking over her shoulder, or wondering when he would strike next. No more waking up in the middle of the night because a bad dream felt too real.

Eventually, her crying eased, and she remained tucked against his side while he guided her toward the bed. The mattress dipped beneath their weight as they sat down.

Calla rested her head on his shoulder and let out a tired breath. Rico wrapped an arm around her and leaned back slightly.

The room fell silent again. But unlike the silence that had haunted them these past weeks, this one felt different.

It wasn’t filled with fear or uncertainty.

There were no kidnappers left to chase. No threats hanging over their heads. No phone calls waiting to shatter their peace.

Rico finally found himself sitting still without feeling the need to move. And he finally allowed himself to simply enjoy the fact that Calla was beside him, alive and safe.