Chapter 175 Rocco
It shook the world apart.
The explosion slammed into my ribs like a fist of steel, sending me tumbling backward across the grating. My vision fractured, light, flame, smoke—my lungs clamped shut, and the taste of blood, sharp as metal, flooded my mouth. The catwalk shrieked in protest beneath me as I slid, jerking to a stop inches from the edge.
The heat of the flames licked the air. Sparks drifted like violent fireflies.
Through the ringing in my ears, I could barely process anything except…
Camillo.
He limped towards me through the smoke, hunched, his skin seared along one arm, face contorted into a mask that was hardly human. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, jerky movements that spoke of injuries-but he kept on coming. Kept reaching for the gun clutched in his shaking hand.
Still trying to kill me.
He raised the weapon.
His eyes locked on mine.
And I finally understood the look in them.
Not anger.
Triumph not.
Not even madness.
Just… obsession.
A sick, hungry obsession to see me on the floor with a hole where my life should've been.
And he had a clean shot.
I tried to get up, but a spear of agony ripped through my ribs-the explosion had torn into my side, maybe shrapnel, maybe debris, maybe bone cracked under impact. My breath hitched. My vision tunneled.
I wasn’t fast enough.
My hand was inches from my gun, but my fingers were numb, weak.
Camillo steadied his aim, panting, whispering something under his breath.
My name.
He wanted me dead more than he wanted to breathe.
He smirked-blood smeared across his teeth.
“I win.”
Then…
Bam!!
A single gunshot pierced the smoke and heat.
Camillo jerked.
A second shot slammed into his shoulder.
A third grazed his cheek.
His gun clattered to the floor.
He staggered, spinning in shock, his eyes wide.
A snarl from Riccardo echoed through the chaos.
“BACK THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY BROTHER!”
He stood on the lower platform, his gun raised and his sight locked with deadly calm on Camillo. Rafael was beside him, face chiseled from stone, firing controlled shots that kept Camillo from recovering.
I sucked in air, my hand clenching on the railing to drag myself upright as mytwo brothers laid down hellfire.
Camillo was roaring, stumbling behind a crate, firing back in return, but his shots were weak, unfocused-more desperation than skill.
The metal echoed with the sound of clanging boots as Rafael forced his way forward, switching angles and making Camillo abandon cover with another precise shot, straight into his leg.
Camillo screamed, falling to one knee.
Smoke swirled around him. Blood pooled beneath him.
But still-he laughed.
A wet, broken sound.
“You think you’ve won?
Riccardo went up the stairs, slow, deadly, controlled steps.
“Oh, we’re about to.”
Camillo's hand scrambled across the floor for the dropped gun.
Riccardo shot him in the wrist.
Camillo howled, falling sideways, clutching the bleeding hand.
Rafael's voice thundered:
“Move again and I'll put one in your spine.”
I pried myself upright, ignoring the searing burn that ripped through my ribs, the warm wetness soaking my shirt, the dizziness that threatened to knock me out cold. My legs shook as I stepped toward them.
Toward him.
Camillo’s gaze flicked to mine, rage and disbelief twisting his bruised face.
“You should be dead,” he spat. “You should’ve died years ago…”
“And yet,” I said, my voice low, raw, “here I am.”
He lunged for the knife hidden under his coat.
But Riccardo got to him first.
He slammed his boot into Camillo's hand with enough force that the blade clattered uselessly across the floor. Then Riccardo lowered his gun, grabbed Camillo by the collar, and punched him so hard his head snapped back with a sickening crack.
Camillo fell, stunned.
Riccardo pressed the muzzle to his forehead.
“You don’t get to crawl back from this one.”
Rafael moved closer, checking the perimeter, watching for any last tricks as he kept his gun trained steadily at Camillo's chest.
“Riccardo,” he whispered. “Make it clean.”
Camillo spat blood.
“You De Luca scumbags… you think you’re gods—”
Riccardo fired a shot right into the temple.
Camillo's head jerked, blood splattering across the metal.
He didn't fall.
He was already being held up by Riccardo’s fist.
Riccardo didn’t look away.
Didn't blink.
He pressed the gun harder to the skull.
And fired again.
Then a third time.
Camillo's body sagged in Riccardo's grasp in an instant, his life draining out.
“Just in case he tries resurrecting again,” Riccardo muttered between gritted teeth.
He let the body fall.
It struck the metal with a hollow, final thud.
The sound echoed through the dying shipyard as flames crackled, steel groaned, and the ground shook beneath our feet.
Camillo, finally, surely was dead.
Bullets to the head.
A weight I had carried for years lifted from my chest… only to be immediately crushed by the sharp, stabbing agony in my side. My knees buckled.
Rafael reached me first, grabbing my arm.
“Rocco! Stay with us…”
Blood soaked through my fingers as I pressed my palm to my ribcage.
Warm. Too warm.
At the sight of the spreading stain, Riccardo's eyes widened.
“Fuck.. where else are you hit?”
"Just-my side-" I grit out, breath shuddering, vision flickering at the edges. "Explosion… shrapnel… maybe a rib-"
Riccardo tore off his jacket and pressed it firmly against the wound.
I hissed-a raw, choked sound escaping me.
“Sorry,” he growled, “but you're not bleeding out on me. Not after all this.”
Rafael scanned the burning warehouse.
“We have to move. Now. The structure's collapsing.”
As if the building wanted to prove him right, a container wall groaned loudly overhead-metal snapping, sparks raining from the ceiling.
My legs buckled.
Both brothers caught me.
“Come on,” Rafael urged. “Rocco, stay awake.”
I forced my eyes open.
But it felt like gravity was pulling me down from the inside.
Smoke thickened, black and bitter. Flames rolled across the far wall. The catwalk under us vibrated as more structural beams failed.
Behind us, the dead Camillo slumped, unmoving.
After months of chasing, losing, fighting, and bleeding…
He was gone.
And I couldn't even savor it.
The pain had a tight grip on my lungs, hot and suffocating.
“Rocco, ” Riccardo snapped. “Look at me.
I tried. My eyes wandered.
“Hey! Stay the fuck awake!”
Desperate, Rafael slapped my cheek lightly.
“Focus. We're getting out. Just a few more steps.”
Riccardo hauled my arm over his shoulder as we limped towards the exit.
The world blurred around me: fire, metal, the groaning roar of collapse.
Then-
A beam above us cracked like thunder.
Rafael pushed us both forward as it crashed down behind us, flames exploding upward.
The heat scorched the back of my neck.
Ahead was the exit.
Just a few metres.
I could taste cold air seeping through the gaps.
But my knees just buckled entirely.
“I—can’t—”
"You can," Riccardo growled, tugging on me. "You will."
Rafael fired above us, clearing a path as more of Camillo's remaining men tried to retreat through the same exit. Bodies dropped. The way cleared.
My vision dimmed.
Everything felt far, muffled, underwater.
Then…
Hands grabbed me.
A different voice.
“Boss… Jesus…he’s bleeding bad—”
Nico.
He ran toward us with two of our men, his eyes wide as he took in the state I was in. He slid an arm under my back, supporting me, shouting orders to the others. Riccardo was shaking with anger.
"He took a hit to the ribs. He's losing too much blood."Nico ripped his knife from his belt and tore open my shirt with practiced precision.
The cold night air hit the wound like fire. Blood poured faster than I wanted to admit. Nico pressed bandages into the torn flesh. Pain flashed white behind my eyes.
"Stay with me, Rocco," he muttered. "Fiorella will kill me if you die." Rafael grabbed Nico’s arm. “
The three of them-three people who had bled alongside me, fought beside me, lived through hell for this family-lifted me as one. The biting cold slammed into me from the outside air. Sirens wailed in the distance. Flames roared behind us
As the last container buckled and fell, the shipyard collapsed inwards. Camillo's reign died with it. And I, hanging between consciousness and darkness, finally let my eyes fall shut as the world dissolved into spinning fragments of fire and cold, sharp air.