Chapter 168 Rocco
The doctors wanted her to rest.
They wanted me to rest too, but that wasn't happening. Not while Fiorella slept in that hospital bed looking too pale, too bruised, too breakable for my sanity.
So, I stayed.
Not beside her at first-I paced.
Five hours of pacing the length of the room, stopping every few minutes just to look at her and reassure myself her chest was still rising. Every time her breath hitched or she shifted, something inside me twisted painfully, like my heart wasn't used to beating without fear anymore.
When she finally settled into a deeper sleep, I pulled a chair close and sat.
I didn't touch her.
I just… watched.
The soft glow of the hospital lights shone down on her bandaged shoulder. Her hair was a mess, splayed out on the pillow, strands running across her cheek. The urge to move them clawed at me until I finally gave in, smoothing them back gently, my fingertips lingering just a second longer than necessary.
She sighed in her sleep, unconsciously leaning towards my hand.
My chest tightened.
I rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the floor while trying to still a mind that was anything but quiet.
I almost lost her.
Again.
The thought kept replaying, over and over, until it scraped raw inside me. I wasn't used to this, this kind of fear. It made everything louder. Sharper. It made me restless enough to stand every few minutes, checking the monitors, checking her breathing, checking the hallway for danger that wasn't there.
At dawn, my eyes were burning and my body ached worse than any wound, but I didn't move.
Not until a nurse came in quietly and whispered, "Rocco… Rafael is waking."
I froze.
I didn't move, but not because I did not want to go; then fear wrapped its fist around my spine.
Rafael.
My big brother, the one who'd been fighting for his life while everything fell apart around us.
I got up slowly, turned, and looked back at Fiorella one more time. I tucked her blanket higher, almost touching her cheek again before pulling my hand back.
“I'll be back,” I whispered.
And I meant it.
⸻
The hallway felt too bright as I walked through it, too clean, too calm. It didn't match the pounding in my chest.
By the time I got to the ICU doors, Rosalia was already there, hands pressed over her mouth, shoulders shaking with breaths she couldn't steady. She looked up the second she sensed me.
Her eyes were swollen, red, terrified, and hopeful all at once.
“R—Rocco,” she whispered, voice trembling.
A sound floated out of Rafael's room before I could answer.
A soft groan.
Rosalia burst into tears.
She didn't run inside, she flew. I followed her in, my boots heavy against the tile, my heart thundering so violently, I almost missed the moment his eyes finally opened.
Rafael blinked up at the ceiling, confused, groggy… alive.
“Rafa?” Rosalia sobbed, clutching his face with shaking hands. “Baby, can you hear me? Look at me, please…look at me.”
His gaze shifted slowly, dragging toward her voice.
As his gaze finally landed on her, the tiniest, weakest smile quivered on his lips.
“Rosa,” he rasped.
She fell apart-her forehead dropping onto his chest, hands digging into his gown like he'd slip away if she let go. Her sobs were soft but raw, shaking both their bodies.
“I thought I lost you,” she cried. “I thought…God, Rafael…I thought you were gone.”
He lifted a trembling hand and laid it on the back of her head, fingers slipping into her hair with a familiarity that punched emotion into the room.
“I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”
I swallowed hard and looked away because it was a moment too intimate for the way I hovered in the doorway.
Rosalia was pressing kisses onto his chest, to his neck, his jaw, while tears dripped on his skin. Rafael closed his eyes for a moment as if feeling it all for the very first time in weeks of nothing.
She then carefully pulled herself up onto the bed, curling against his uninjured side as he wrapped his arm around her waist.
Anyone else, and I'd yell at them for being reckless.
But this was Rafael.
And Rosalia.
And they needed this more than they needed air.
I stepped closer as Rafael opened his eyes once more. He stared at me, something like confusion stirring behind the exhaustion.
“Rocco?” His voice cracked. “What… happened?”
I let out a long breath, pulling a chair to the foot of the bed. Rosalia stayed curled against him, her fingers tracing his arm like she still didn’t trust her eyes.
"You want the short or long version?" I muttered.
He stared. “Everything.”
So I told him.
Bit by bit, the story came out. Nek. The raid. Camillo. The explosion. Fiorella’s mother. My insane sprint through fire. How close everything had come to falling apart.
Rafael listened, his eyes darkening with each detail. His hand tightened around Rosalia protectively, anger flickering beneath the weakness.
The room felt heavy by the time I had finished, like the air knew what was coming.
Rafael exhaled slowly and steadily. "So Camillo isn’t confirmed dead."
It wasn’t a question.
Rosalia tensed, her head rising to look at him. “Don’t…don’t talk about them yet. You just woke up.”
He gave her a weak smile, his thumb stroking along her jaw. “I’m awake because I have things to finish.”
The monitors beeped faster.
Rosalia glared at both of us. “No. You’re not jumping into anything. You almost died, Rafael. You’re staying right here.”
I looked away, my jaw tightening. "She's right."
“But you don’t believe that,” Rafael shot back, eyes on me.
I didn't answer.
Because the truth was sitting heavy in my gut, undeniable, burning.
If Camillo isn’t confirmed dead then we weren’t done.
And every instinct, every warning, every scar, every quiet tremor in my bones said something was already moving.
Quietly.
Slowly.
Closer than we thought.
The door clicked suddenly.
A nurse poked her head in. “Mr. Rafael? There’s something you need to see.”
The tone in her voice-
Uneasy.
Tight.
I stood instantly, chest tightening. "What is it?"
She swallowed. “A message was delivered to the front desk. For you.”
Rafael shifted, his eyes sharpening. “What kind of message?”
She hesitated before answering.
“It’s a black envelope… sealed with a V.”
Rosalia gasped softly.
The room froze.
My blood went cold.
Of all the letters, all the symbols, all the threats a man could receive… this was the one that meant war.
And it found us in a hospital.
I stepped towards the door, my pulse pounding.
Rafael's voice cut through the air just as my hand wrapped around the handle.
“Rocco…”
I looked back.
He held my gaze, steady and sure despite the weakness in his body.
“They’re coming.”
I didn’t need him to say who. I already knew. The Valenti were back. And this time, they weren't hiding in the shadows.