Chapter 15 Rocco
Time slowed.
Fiorella froze, the gun placed between her eyes.
I didn't think.
Didn't breathe.
I fired.
The man fell before his finger could squeeze the trigger.
His gun dropped to the ground.
Fiorella didn't flinch.
She simply turned her head slightly, her eyes on me with a subtle nod.
Unfazed.
God, she was something else.
"Move," I growled, pulling her wrist and dragging her toward the alley at the rear of the ballroom.
My car was two streets away.
We weaving through smoke and rubble, bodies groaning in the distance, sirens too late to do any good.
She was quiet beside me, but her tension radiated like heat.
Not fear.
Anger.
By the time we finally got into the car, she was grasping the gash on her cheek, blood pouring down her jaw.
I looked at her for a moment too long.
The heave of her breasts.
The fire in her eyes.
"I've had worse," she snarled.
"That was too close."
She slid a sideways glance my way. "I don't need you playing hero."
I started the engine, tires protesting as I pulled away from the carnage.
"Wasn't playing. I look after what's valuable."
"Valuable?" Her laugh was acrid. "I'm not an asset, De Luca."
I said nothing.
We both knew she was.
But not only to her father.
To me, she was quickly becoming valuable in ways I didn't welcome.
The warehouse.
We got there in minutes, headlights slicing through shattered gates.
The compound had been torn apart.
Her hand on my arm halted me before I could get out.
"Careful."
She went first, quiet and alert.
Inside, the air was thick with the stench of gasoline and charred metal.
One of her guys was face-down, blood pooling under his head.
Fiorella's jaw clenched.
No tears.
Just anger simmering beneath that perfect skin.
I crouched, examining the crates.
"Whatever they took… it was intentional."
She nodded once.
"I know."
I rose to greet her.
Her breathing was rent now.
Not from exhaustion, from control.
She was holding it all inside, as I did.
"We find them," I said simply.
Her eyes met mine.
"Not just find."
I allowed the barest smile.
"Destroy."
We stood a long moment.
Two predators, breathing the same fire.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
Rafael.
"They hit one of our safe houses too," he said grimly.
"Coordinated."
"They're targeting both families," I snarled.
Fiorella listened in.
Her face went cold.
"They screwed up."
We left the warehouse, returning to the car.
As I drove, I couldn't help but wonder
How far would she go for revenge?
And why did I so desperately want to watch her burn the world down?
I glanced at her.
She caught me.
We didn't flinch.
The tension between us cracked.
I pulled up in front of her mansion.
"You're not going in by yourself," I said to her.
She raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not asking your permission.”
I leaned in closer, voice low.
“I’m not asking for your trust.”
I don’t know who leaned in first
But suddenly her breath was hot against my mouth.
Close enough to taste.
Before anything could happen
Gunfire erupted again.
The windows shattered.
I shoved her down just as bullets tore through the car frame.
Fiorella cursed.
“Third attack in one night.”
We both scrambled out the opposite door, backs against the car.
"We're not done yet," I growled.
And then I saw the shooter step out of the shadows
Wearing the colours of a family I thought had been laid to rest years ago.
No.
Not them.
My blood ran cold.
I turned to Fiorella
And said, "You're not going to believe this..."
My voice caught in my throat.
The gunman stepped closer, the light casting a glow over the emblem on his jacket.
A crest I had not seen in five years.
The Bernadi family.
We'd thought we'd wiped them out.
Rafael had ordered it.
Riccardo and I had done it.
Brutally.
Completely.
They weren't supposed to exist.
And yet here he was — standing before me, gun raised, hate boiling in his eyes.
A ghost from the ashes.
Fiorella was already raising her gun beside me.
But I grasped her wrist.
"Wait."
The shooter hesitated too, his gaze flicking between the two of us.
“Rocco De Luca,” he spat.
“I’ve been waiting to put a bullet between your eyes.”
I took a slow step forward, shielding Fiorella instinctively.
“You should’ve stayed dead with the rest of your family.”
He laughed, wild and bitter.
“You should’ve finished the job.”
The sound of engines roared down the street.
More of them.
Fiorella cursed under her breath.
“We need cover.”
I grabbed her hand and ran.
We crouched behind the stone pillars as bullets tore through the night air.
I felt one graze the warmth of its passage across my arm.
Didn't matter.
I took a look out, six men.
Two on motorbikes, four on foot.
All wearing the same crest.
"Bernadi's legacy," I snarled.
Fiorella reloaded.
"Thought they were extinct for good."
"So did I."
I caught her eye.
"Time to rectify that mistake."
We moved as one, fast and precise.
Back-to-back, taking down two before the others could even respond.
The night was filled with gunfire and smoke.
But they just kept on coming.
A bullet creased her leg , she dropped.
I caught her before she hit the ground, firing blindly with my left hand.
"Keep moving!" I shouted.
She shoved me away.
"I don't need you carrying me!"
I almost smiled.
Even injured, she was pure fire.
We made it to the side alley.
I pressed the detonator in my pocket
The car behind us exploded, flames lighting up the night. It was cover for us.
Fiorella was breathing hard.
I tore off my jacket and wrapped it around her leg, tight.
She didn't even wince.
"You okay?"
"Keep moving," she snarled.
We reached the safe house around the corner.
One of my backup teams was already there, guns drawn.
"Get her inside!" I barked.
She glared at me.
"I'm not breakable."
I grabbed her chin hard, forcing her to look at me.
"You're bleeding. You sit this one out, or I carry you."
Her eyes narrowed but she didn't argue.
I turned to my men.
"Clean this up. Leave no one alive."
They nodded and vanished into the night.
Inside, the safe house was Spartan — steel walls, gun racks, cold concrete floors.
I sat across from her.
Her leg was bleeding through the bandage.
But she sat straight, unmoving.
"You knew this would happen," she said softly.
I met her gaze.
“For some reason our enemies are arising.”
She tilted her head.
“Seems I’m now part of your mess.”
I leaned forward.
“As I’m part of yours .”
The room went quiet.
The tension between us crackled, dangerous and undeniable.
Her breathing slowed.
Her lips parted just slightly.
Before either of us could speak —
My phone rang.
Rafael.
I answered.
His voice was low, urgent.
“We have a problem.”
I already knew.
“They’re back.”
“No.” His voice darkened.
“It’s worse.”
I stood.
Fiorella was already on her feet, limping slightly but refusing to show weakness.
I put the phone on speaker.
Rafael's voice echoed through the room:
"The Bernadi's aren't acting alone."
I stilled.
"They've partnered with a rival family and someone in Alessandro D'Angelo's inner circle."
Fiorella's breath caught.
Her eyes went wide.
"No."
But I saw it in her face — doubt, fear, anger.
"Someone close to your father betrayed you," Rafael said.
Fiorella's eyes snapped to me, her voice low and venomous:
"I will burn them alive."
I had no time to respond before the doors of the safe house burst open
And the last thing I saw was Fiorella grabbing for her gun and rushing forward as smoke covered everything —