Chapter 123 Rocco
The conference room was full of tension and hot coffee, thick with silence and unmet anger. Rafael sat at the head of the great oak table, drumming fingers on the smooth surface in that infuriatingly slow, deliberate rhythm that meant he was in intense thought. Riccardo lounged to his left, all cool on the surface but with that telltale glimmer of anger in his eyes that matched mine.
The name Valenti hung in the air, smoke-like. Nobody had said it yet, but everybody had thought it.
Rafael broke the quiet at last. "I've been thinking about this all night," he said, his tone even, measured. "The Valentis do nothing without a reason. They're not insane. Every blow is meant to infuriate or scold. That means they're still looking for payment."
I clenched jaws in my chair. "Repayment for Antonio's lack of sense."
He nodded. "Right. And whether we like it or not, we're in the middle. They don't care who pays whom. To them, a De Luca is in the equation now."
Riccardo scoffed. "So what, you're saying we settle his debt for him?"
Rafael's gaze shifted to him. Calm. Cool. Deadly. "If it means keeping them from putting another blade into Rosalia, yes."
The room fell silent again. The soft hum of the light above hung in the air, intertwined with the soft tick of the clock on the wall. I ran my hand down my face, the rasp of stubble grounding me in the silence before I spoke.
"I detest the idea," I growled. "But I get it. We can't let this get out of control,not with them. The Valentis don't back down, and if they've already attacked Rosalia once, they'll do it again."
Rafael exhaled slowly. "That's why we must proceed carefully. No vengeance, not yet. I'll have someone find out how much is owed to Antonio. If it's possible, we'll pay it quietly first, then make him bleed for it later."
I tilted my head to the side and watched him. "You're going to pay another man's debt?
“I'll pay in installments," he said to me, his gaze holding mine. "The Valenti don't take debts lightly. But they do value order. If we pay it promptly, it gives us a chance to strengthen our walls before they make up their minds to come back."
Riccardo drummed his fingers on the armrest. "And what if the amount's not 'manageable'? If it's more than you estimate?
Rafael's eyes hardened. "Then Antonio's life will be the only thing that will make it even."
There was no anger in his voice, just hard reality. That was Rafael. Logical. Strategic. Always planning two steps ahead. But this time, even he looked exhausted, the dark smudge beneath his eye a peek at fatigue.
I wrapped my hands around my coffee, the bitterness holding me fast as I took a sip. "Regardless of what happens, I am with you. Just do your best to keep the Valentis from our family. From Rosalia. From Fiorella."
Rafael nodded curtly. "I will take care of it."
The conversation continued, moving into logistics, names, phone numbers, addresses. We spoke of our suppliers, the weapons deals in the works, the tacit alliances we'd have to make if things became ugly. Riccardo was the first to stand when Rafael finally sat back, signaling that the conference was at an end.
"I'll have my people keep an eye on Antonio," Riccardo said, slipping on his jacket. "If he so much as sneezes incorrectly, I want to hear about it.".
Rafael also stood, his composure never faltering. "Good. And Rocco, keep Fiorella close. She's already in enough danger for being involved with us."
I smiled a little, but it didn't reach my eyes. "That was already the plan."
He didn't speak, but just gave me that stern, older-brother look that told me he was trusting me but still silently warning me not to screw it up. I understood. In my life, trust wasn't just earned, it was fought for, guarded, and buried with you if you got killed.
I was halfway down the corridor when my phone beeped. The screen flashed with Fiorella's name, and something in me constricted at once. She barely called by this time.
I answered on the second ring. "Fiorella?"
I heard only the rasp of her breathing, straining, uneven, before I heard her voice, trembling on the fringes.
"Rocco…"
My body went cold. "What is it?"
"There was—" she exclaimed, her voice breaking. "There was an explosion. Our warehouse… one on the south dock. The second one."
The words struck with the force of a bullet. "An explosion? Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," she said quickly, though her voice shook. "Leo and I, we escaped before it reached us, but it was too close. Too close. Everything's gone, Rocco. The entire building was consumed by fire."
I was silent for a second. The quiet mounted, weighed down by the thud of my heart in my ears.
I gripped the phone in my hand harder. "You think it’s an accident?"
"No," she said, her voice cold now. "It wasn't. It started too fast. Too in control. Someone wanted to kill me."
Rafael's words from a second ago echoed in my head, buy time, not a war.
But war was already pounding on our door.
"Where are you now?" I bit out, already heading for the door.
"Outside the house," she said.
Her voice cut every edge of my composure. I felt my rage unfurl, slow and deadly. The Valentis. It had to be them. No one else would hit so hard, not when they knew what she was involved with. Or could Phillipe have done this?
“Stay there," I told her, my tone steady. "Don't move. I'm coming."
"Rocco—" she said, but I hung up, shoving the phone into my pocket as I headed down the hallway. My mind was already working ahead, names, enemies, weaknesses. Every fiber of me screamed for retribution, but I kept it in check. Not yet. Not till I had proof.
Rafael's office door remained ajar as I passed by. He gazed up at once, reading my face before I could say anything.
"Something's wrong."
"Fiorella's warehouse," I snarled. "It's got burnt."
He sat bolt upright, all composure forgotten. "Did it get wrecked?"
"It blew up." I paused, the words sour on my tongue. "She escaped alive, barely."
None of us said anything for a moment. Riccardo then cursed, punching the doorframe. Rafael rose to his feet, deliberate in his movements, the fury seething beneath his calm exterior.
"They've started the fight," he said quietly.
"Then they will pay," I retorted, the metal of the vow in my words. "Every one of them."
But I'd turned to leave when my phone beeped, a text, from an unlisted number.
You can't keep her safe forever.
No signature. Only those six words.