Chapter 18 Fiorella
The blast rocked the entire house, vibrating the earth at my feet.
I didn't think, instinct took over. I grabbed my pistol from the bedside table and threw open the door.
Smoke rolled down the hall like an animal, strangling, heavy. I coughed into my elbow and sprinted towards it.
Rocco was already there, shouting commands, his voice raw and cutting through the din.
"Check the south wing! Seal off the perimeter!"
When I caught his eye, I saw it: icy, repressed rage.
"You all right?" he snapped.
I nodded, eyes blurring. "Where did they hit?"
"The garage. Bomb under an SUV." His jaw clenched. "They're not playing games."
I swiped at blood on my cheek.
"Neither are we."
He glared at me — one of those rare moments when masks slipped and it was two wolves flashing teeth in recognition.
"Finish this," I said to him.
We didn't linger.
Rafael and Riccardo joined us by the time — suits hastily thrown on over bulletproof vests — Rocco and I were already marking targets on the dinner table, still smoke wafting from shattered windows.
"You were attacked again," Rafael snarled, taking in the devastation with black eyes.
"They attacked your residence today," Rocco added matter-of-factly.
"And they missed." I ground my teeth.
Rafael fixed his gaze on me.
"We must move. Immediately."
I gave a curt nod.
We formed a council for war in minutes. Two mafia clans crouched over a haze of smoke, brewing havoc.
We had three names.
Allied families who had recently been unhappy with the De Lucas or with the D'Angelos. One of them had driven a knife into the dark.
Rafael's voice was low enough to kill.
"We attack all three. Tonight."
I smiled.
"That's exactly what I was thinking."
Rocco shoved a satellite photo across the table.
"The first compound, Bernadi family's private house. Security rotates every ten minutes. Vulnerable spot is the south wall."
I traced my finger across the map.
"Two squads attack both sides. Nobody makes it out alive."
Riccardo looked too damn pleased about it.
"I'll handle the explosives."
"Second target," Rafael continued, "is the Gallo family port warehouse. They've been smuggling guns. Cut them off. Burn it to the ground."
"I'll take that," I volunteered.
Rocco gave me a look, something dark flickering at the back of his eyes.
"You're not going in alone."
I glared back at him.
"I wasn't asking for permission.".
He held my stare. The tension was almost unbearable, two predators sizing each other up. But he finally gave me a sharp nod.
“I’ll be with you.”
Rafael leaned forward, his expression iron.
“The third target… The Marchesi compound. It will be the most guarded.”
“I’ll lead that strike,” Rocco said without hesitation.
My father’s voice crackled over the secure line.
"Send them a message, my daughter. No one assaults our blood and gets to brag about it."
I swallowed the searing rage welling up in my throat.
"They'll be swimming in their own blood."
Two hours passed, and we geared up.
Black tactical gear. Silencers, combat knives, bombs. My adrenaline was pumping, but my mind was as cold as ice.
Rocco showed up beside me as we climbed into separate vehicles.
"You ready?" he whispered.
I tightened the strap on my vest.
"I was born for this."
The convoy rolled into the night.
My cold steel gun was an extension of my hand as we rolled into the night. Rocco stood beside me, dark and serene, giving orders in a low, authoritative voice that commanded even my most loyal men to move without question.
We had practiced every step for hours, reading over schematics and intel. Tonight was not just about revenge, was about sending a message. The Marchesi family had gone too far. They had aided the attacks against us, and now they would be made to suffer.
I wore a calm mask, but my insides were burning with anger. I did not let anger cloud me, I let anger sharpen me.
Rocco’s voice cut through the night. “Fiorella, take the north side. I’ll clear the west with Riccardo.”
I nodded, not needing more words. My men fell into step behind me, moving like shadows. The Marchesi warehouse loomed ahead, heavily guarded, but that didn’t matter.
We hit fast and hard. Silencers discharged fire; corpses fell before a shout could go out. I faced one of Marchesi's top men -- Stefano. He stared as he recognised me, then scowled and shut his eyes.
He lunged. I struck him in the head. We struggled, his hands trying to wrap around my neck, but I slammed my knee into his gut and turned, my blade cutting across his throat. He gurgled and hit the ground.
The building shook with flame. Booms resounded from the west wall, Rocco's crew approaching.
A rush of adrenaline ran through me. I moved up to the second floor, observing the mayhem. We were winning. I spotted Rocco down below, his movements ruthless and effective. He glanced up, locking eyes with me for a split second, and I could feel it: respect for one another.
I didn't have time to dwell on it. More guards flooded the floor. I dispatched two before they even realized where I was.
And then the shocker, a second Marchesi convoy showing up. Reinforcements.
I grabbed for my radio. "Rocco, they're backed up."
"I see 'em," his voice growled in my ear. "Tighten. We're staying put until this is done."
We pushed with more force. Grenades were hurled, smoke boiling heavy and suffocating. My men fell back to regroup. I caught sight of Rocco's outline through the smoke, sprinting towards me.
"Push or fall back?" I gasped.
He glanced at the approaching cars, then at me, his eyes burning.
"We settle this."
We shoved one final time. Bullets rained down. The warehouse was a war zone.
The explosion was quick, one of Riccardo's bombs detonating just in time. The second Marchesi caravan burst into flames.
Shrieks. Panic. The Marchesi were breaking apart.
Rocco grabbed my arm as debris poured down. "We're done here. Get out."
We exited out the east door, running to the parked cars. Riccardo was in the vehicle, blood on his knuckles, eyes wild with adrenalin.
As we drove away, I couldn't help but look back at the burning building.
Message received.
But deep inside me, I knew this was far from over.
I met Rocco's eyes.
"They'll come for us harder."
His jaw clenched. "Let them.".
And as we reached the gate of the property, my phone rang with an unknown number.
I answered it.
A voice purred, icy and mocking:
"This isn't the end, Fiorella. We're coming after you."
The line went dead.
My blood ran cold.