Chapter 33 Rocco
The scent of burned tobacco filled the air as Rafael leaned back in his chair, exhaling a relaxed stream of smoke. His face was emotionless, yet the weight of his words fell over the room like a constricting noose.
"Elio isn't going in alone," he said, tapping ash into a crystal bowl. "He's teamed up with his friends. They're rallying men, resources, whatever they need to hit Fiorella where it hurts."
A muscle in my jaw twitched.
Riccardo whistled softly under his breath where he stood leaning against the wall, a look of amusement on his face. "Well, well. Let's see just how powerful your princess actually is."
My fists tightened into my thighs.
She wasn't mine.
But the thought of anyone coming for her, of her being outnumbered, surrounded, was enough to spark a wild anger in my chest. I had expected Elio to retaliate. That was a certainty. But with his people behind him, this wasn't vengeance anymore. This was war.
Rafael took another drag on his cigar before his piercing eyes snapped to me. "She's smart, but this? This is too much for her to handle on her own. If they all come after her at once, she'll never survive it."
"She'll do it anyway," I snarled, rubbing a hand over my face. "She won't back down."
"She shouldn't," Rafael said. "But she'll need support."
I already knew that.
Fiorella was not one to summon help. She associated it with weakness, with losing control. But even the strongest generals knew when to play their cards right. And the smartest thing to do right now was not just to fight, but to not fight alone.
My brothers were waiting for me, eyes on my reaction.
I stood up, rolling my shoulders, my mind already decided.
“ We make the first move," I stated. "We strike before they strike her."
Riccardo sneered. "Now that's the Rocco I'm familiar with."
Rafael breathed out through his nose, his head nodding slowly. "I'll have our people monitor her estate from afar. We don't get involved unless we need to."
I didn't care for that.
Waiting for it to be "necessary" was waiting for her to be bleeding. But I knew Fiorella. If she found out we were stepping in, she'd fight us as well.
I gritted my teeth.
She could be as stubborn as she wanted. It didn't make a damn difference.
Elio Marchesi just signed his death certificate.
And I'd be the one to pull the trigger.
The instant Rafael's phone buzzed on the table, I knew something was amiss. His, "Talk," was brusque.
I watched his jaw tighten, his hand closing around the phone with such violence I was afraid he would snap it in two. The air in the room thickened. Then he was standing, already barking commands as he grabbed his gun.
"She's been ambushed."
The words had a violent, adrenaline-charged surge racing through my veins.
"What?" My voice was sharp, authoritative.
"Fiorella's estate. Elio's men are there now." Rafael's expression was blank, but his movements were quick, deadly. "Our men just got into position, but it's chaos."
For half a second, my mind went blank.
Then I was running.
Riccardo cursed under his breath, already reaching for his guns. "Told you she was in over her head."
I didn't hear him.
All I could think about was Fiorella, standing in the middle of that carnage, gun in hand, fire in her blood, fighting men who had a single goal: to kill her.
And I wasn't fucking there.
Rafael shot me a glance as we approached the garage, his tone abrupt. "She's not dead. We would've heard it by now."
It didn't stop the tension winding through my chest like barbed wire.
We piled into the black SUVs, engines snarling to life as we ripped through the streets, dodging traffic, blowing red lights. Every second that passed was like a goddamn eternity.
I gripped the wheel tighter, foot heavier on the gas.
Fiorella was smart. Trained. But this wasn't a battle. This was an ambush.
And Elio Marchesi wasn't playing games anymore.
By the time we neared her estate, smoke was rolling in the distance, black tendrils twisting against the darkness of the sky. My heart thudded in my ears.
Gunfire echoed through the air.
I didn't hesitate. I gunned it, my SUV squealing to a stop at the gates. There were bodies strewn about the ground, Elio's men, a few of Fiorella's.
I was out of the vehicle before the tires even halted, gun drawn, slicing through the fight like a blade.
Where was she?
A figure flung itself at me, but I barely registered it. A single shot to the chest, and he was down.
I cleared the estate, my breath coming in quick gasps. My heart pounding.
Then I saw her.
Fiorella.
A few feet away, a knife in her hand, blood splattered on her clothing. She was fighting, moving like she was born for combat, taking down men twice her size.
But she was outnumbered.
And she hadn't seen the one creeping up behind her.
My vision went red.
I lifted my gun
And fired.
The bullet shattered the night, swift and pitiless. The man creeping up behind her collapsed in upon himself before he even knew he was dead. Fiorella spun around, eyes burning as she searched the threat before her eyes landed on me.
For a moment, relief skittered across her face. Then she wiped it away, jaw clenched as she refocused on the fight.
She was still fighting.
Bodies surrounded her, Elio's men, groaning, bleeding, dying. But there were more coming. I could hear the crash of footsteps, the shouts on the other side of the estate.
I battled my way through, eliminating two more men on my way to her. My sole and only thought was getting to her. The rest of the world was irrelevant.
A man attacked, targeting her blind spot again.
"Behind you!" I shouted.
Fiorella twisted fast, her knife flashing under the dim estate lights as she stabbed it into the man's side. He choked on a scream before she yanked the blade free, shoving him off her.
I reached her then, grabbing her wrist, blood damp against my fingers.
"You okay?" My voice was rough, more brutal than I'd intended.
She jerked her arm away. "I said I can handle this."
God, the woman was impossible.
"You're welcome," I muttered.
Fiorella barely spared me a glance before she scanned the estate. "More are coming."
She was right. The sounds of vehicles speeding up the driveway, the headlights slicing through the night, it could only mean one thing.
Reinforcements.
I clenched my teeth.
"More of our men should be here any moment," I told her.
She wiped the blood from her knife on the dead man's shirt. "Good. Because I'm not done yet."
Her voice was passionate, and it surprised me.
There was additional gunfire, and we needed to move. We got behind the fountain, ducking down as bullets tore into the stone. I could hear her breathing next to me, quick and sharp but steady.
She wasn't afraid.
I edged around the side of the fountain. "Elio here?"
Fiorella's eyes widened in shock. "No. He's too much of a coward. He sent his men to die for him."
Something dark twisted inside me. I wanted to be the one to take Elio Marchesi down.
Not just for what he'd done to Fiorella's father. Not just for the war he'd begun.
But because he thought he could take her from me.
I jerked my head, meeting her gaze. "You ready to finish this?"
Her mouth parted slightly. "Always."
That single word had something dangerous running through my veins.
I grinned, loading my firearm. "Then let's make them wish they never came here."
She nodded once, gripping her knife.
We charged.
Guns were fired. Bodies fell.
More of our soldiers poured in, Rafael's reinforcements cutting through Elio's army like they were paper. The battle was going our way, but something in my chest still didn't feel right.