Chapter 165 Rocco
Fiorella. I caught sight of her crouched low, dagger in hand, muscles taut, every movement a blur of precision and desperation. She was exhausted, bruised, but she wasn’t stopping. She never stopped.
I spun, fists flying, as Camillo lunged at me with lethal intent. Steel flashed in the dim light, sparks dancing off the overhead piping. I blocked, twisted, landed a brutal punch to his ribs. He staggered but didn’t fall. His eyes were wild, murderous, calculating. Years of hatred distilled into every strike.
Nek circled, slow, deliberate, knife gleaming in his hand. “Persistent, aren’t you, Rocco?” he sneered. “Your little heiress will watch you die.”
I growled. “No. I’m going to watch my little heiress kill you.”
Fiorella darted past me, shooting at Nek’s men with precision, her exhaustion barely slowing her. Every strike was lethal. I fought Camillo with every ounce of strength I had, my body screaming in protest, but my mind was entirely focused on keeping her alive, keeping myself alive long enough to end this.
Nek attacked. I pivoted, swinging a pipe to block him, then shoved him backward into a crate. He hissed, but I pressed the advantage, thrusting the pipe into his stomach with all the force I could muster. His knife flashed, slashing at me. My hands caught it mid-strike, twisting, and with a guttural roar, I shoved the blade into his other side.
He staggered, eyes wide, a hiss of pain escaping him.
“Leave him for me Rocco.”
Fiorella didn’t hesitate. She lunged, knife in hand, and drove it straight into his heart. He screamed, stumbling to the floor. She didn’t stop, she shot him as well on the head, breathing ragged, eyes blazing with fury. “That’s what you get you sick bastard.”
Camillo lunged again, knife swinging. I met him mid-step, fists crashing against his chest. He spun, forcing me to lose my balance, but my hands locked onto his shoulders. I could see the rage in his eyes, he would kill me if he could. I raised my knife, aiming to finish this.
Fiorella’s scream echoed as she dodged another attack from Nek’s men. I glanced at her, sharp, relentless, unstoppable, and my chest tightened. She was alive. She was fighting. But she wasn’t safe yet.
Camillo lunged at me again, desperate. My knife found its mark, stabbing him in the side. He gasped, staggering back. I drove him to the floor with a punch that rattled every bone in his body, and he pulled me down before rising up.
Then a shot rang out.
Time slowed.
Fiorella screamed.
I turned. Camillo had a gun. His hand shook, aim locked. She stumbled slightly, and the bullet fired.
The world blurred around me. Rage, fear, and desperation coiled inside me like a living thing.
And then Camillo fired again.
The bullet hit her square in the shoulder. She screamed, stumbling, knife nearly slipping from her hands. My chest froze, my blood turning ice. Rage and terror ignited into one, blinding everything else.
Camillo staggered back with a twisted grin, but my mind only saw red. My hands tightened around my knife. He would pay. He would pay for every second she had been endangered, every risk she had taken, every breath she might lose.
I charged. The world narrowed to the three of us, me, Camillo, and Fiorella. She staggered to her feet, determination blazing through the pain, ready to fight again despite the wound. I lunged at Camillo, knife raised, teeth gritted.
The warehouse echoed with screams, the clash of metal, and the smell of blood.
And then.
A single gunshot cracked the air.
Fiorella’s scream cut through it.
Time froze.
Camillo’s grin widened. One of his men had shot her. On her side.
I shot him down immediately.
And everything went black.
For a moment, I heard nothing.
Just the ringing echo of the gunshot, the world shrinking to a single point of white-hot noise.
Then everything rushed back at once, the crackle of fire, the groaning steel overhead, Fiorella’s ragged gasp of pain, and Camillo’s low, satisfied laugh.
My vision snapped into focus.
Fiorella staggered, one hand gripping her bleeding shoulder, the other clutching her knife like her life depended on not letting it go. Her breaths were sharp, shallow, her knees threatening to give out.
I felt something inside me tear itself open.
Rage. Fear. Something bone-deep and ancient.
Camillo raised his gun again, ready to finish what he’d started.
I didn’t think.
I picked up a gun and fired.
The shot tore through the space between us like a living thing. Camillo jerked back, the bullet slamming into his thigh. He collapsed with a snarl, blood streaming down his leg as he dragged himself behind a stack of crates.
I didn’t stop shooting as he tried to hide.
BAM. BAM. BAM.
Every shot was a promise, one for what he did to Riccardo, one for the bomb he sent to Rafael, one for Fiorella’s scream echoing in my ears.
But Camillo was slippery, he always had been. Even bleeding out, he crawled fast, ducking behind a steel column as stray bullets sparked against the metal.
Fiorella groaned behind me.
I turned instantly.
She was on her knees, one hand pressed to her wound, blood seeping between her fingers. Her breath trembled, but her eyes, God, her eyes, still burned with that fierce fire that had terrified and enchanted me since the very first day.
“Fiorella,” I breathed, dropping to her side. “Stay with me.”
She tried to shove me away with her good arm. “I’m fine…go finish him—”
“No.” My hand found her cheek, forcing her to look at me. “I’m not leaving you.”
Her jaw clenched, fury and fear mingling in her expression. “Rocco…behind you—”
A metal crash erupted behind me.
I spun just as Camillo limped out from behind the crates, using the shadows as cover, face twisted in pain and hatred. His gun raised weakly, both hands shaking, but he was aiming at Fiorella.
He wanted to kill her before he died.
I didn’t hesitate.
I fired again.
The bullet tore into his shoulder, spinning him backward. His gun clattered to the floor as he screamed, rage and pain bleeding together. He stumbled, tripping over debris, but still, somehow, he pushed himself up again, crawling, dragging himself away deeper into the collapsing warehouse.
Coward.
He wasn’t trying to win.
He was trying to escape.
I raised my gun to shoot him on the head and finally end things but the building started collapsing dividing into two with him on one side and me on the other with blocks blocking us.
Flames crawled up the walls like hungry beasts. The explosions from earlier had destabilized the building; steel beams groaned overhead, dust raining from the ceiling.
The warehouse was seconds from caving in.
I moved fast. I had to get Fiorella out now.
“Fi…hold tight.” I wrapped her arm around my neck and lifted her to her feet. She bit back a cry, but her fingers clutched my shirt, refusing to let go. Every breath she took trembled with effort.
“Rocco,” she gasped. “The building…you need to go…I’ll…I’ll slow you…”
“I know.” My voice was steel. “I’m not leaving you. Ever.”
Her head rested briefly against my chest, just for a heartbeat.
The floor vibrated violently.
Another explosion roared somewhere deeper in the hall, flames blasting outward like an inferno opening its jaws. A shockwave hit us, knocking me down to one knee, shielding Fiorella with my body as debris smashed around us.
Camillo was nowhere to be seen now, only bloodstains leading toward the shattered loading bay.
I hope the blocks hit him hard.
But I didn’t have the luxury of chasing him, not while Fiorella’s breaths were getting weaker and the building was collapsing.
“Stay awake,” I whispered, lifting her again. “Don’t close your eyes, Fi.”
She squeezed my hand weakly. “Rocco… don’t let him… get away…”
“I won’t.” My chest tightened with a promise that felt carved in bone. “But first I’m getting you out.”
The warehouse door was half-collapsed, flames inching closer. I carried her, stumbling over broken crates and fallen beams. Each breath burned from the smoke, each step shook under the trembling ground.
Heavy metal cracked overhead.
A massive support beam snapped loose.
I lunged forward just in time.
It crashed behind us, sending a cloud of fire and ash blasting across the floor. Heat licked my back, but I kept moving, Fiorella gripping me with the last of her strength.
Her voice was barely a whisper. “Rocco… “
“I’ve got you.” My voice broke. “I swear I’ve got you.”
The exit was only a few meters away now, the night air visible in slivers through the collapsing doorway. Flames raged behind us, chasing us like a living monster.
Another explosion ripped through the far side of the warehouse.
The shockwave hurled us forward.
I twisted my ankle mid-fall, taking the impact on my back so Fiorella wouldn’t hit the ground first. Her breath hitched in my ear, a pained gasp that cut deeper than any blade Camillo had ever held.
We hit the broken concrete, sliding across debris.
I coughed, tasting blood and dust, vision blurred from the blast, but I didn’t let go of her.
Not for a second.
Her fingers dug into my shirt weakly. “I…love… you.”
And then her eyes shut.
The ceiling cracked.
Steel screamed.
I rolled, shielding her again as the entire roof of the warehouse gave one final metallic roar.
Then
The building exploded in fire.
Heat slammed into my back, flames clawing at the ground, the shockwave lifting us off the floor.
And as the warehouse collapsed behind us in a storm of smoke, steel, and fire—
I didn’t know if Fiorella was still breathing.
Everything went black.