Chapter 171

Chapter 171
I stood up slowly, as if my body hadn't yet understood that it could relax. My legs trembled, the ground felt unstable, and for a moment I had to close my eyes to make sure I was really awake. When I opened them again, the shed seemed different. The noise had ceased. The air was still heavy, smelling of blood and salt, but… there was silence. A strange, almost respectful silence.

It was all over.

Vincenzo walked towards Rafael with careful steps, as if afraid of startling him. He said nothing. He simply knelt before the boy and pulled him into a tight, desperate hug, the kind that doesn't ask permission. Rafael responded, half confused, half instinctively, burying his face in his father's shoulder as if he knew, deep down, that this was the safest place in the world.

My chest tightened.

Vincenzo picked him up and then came to me. His arm wrapped around us tightly, as if he wanted to merge us into one.

— I thought… — his voice faltered — …I thought I was going to lose you both.

That's when I broke down.

The tears came hot, uncontrollable, carrying everything I had held back until then. I cried against his chest, hugging Rafael too, feeling both of their hearts beating close to mine. It was real. We were alive. Together.

— It's over… — I murmured, between sobs. — It's over.

Nancy approached slowly, a little awkwardly, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

— Yeah… — she said, trying to sound light. — Everyone's hugging… should I just stand here watching or can I join in too?

I laughed. A broken laugh, relieved, almost incredulous. I extended my arm and pulled her close.

— Come here, you crazy girl.

She joined the hug, squeezing us too tightly, as always. For a brief moment, we all closed our eyes. It was like breathing after being submerged for a long time. As if that hell had finally been left behind.

But the peace was short-lived.

"We did it, sir."

The voice came from behind, firm… but tired.

When we turned around, my heart sank.

Vincenzo's bodyguard was standing a few meters ahead. He was smiling. A proud, satisfied smile. But blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and his body… his body was riddled with too many bullets to ignore. He took short, uncertain steps, like someone trying to stay upright by sheer willpower.

"No…" I whispered, feeling the ground give way beneath me.

Everyone ran at the same time.

Vincenzo got there first, catching him before he fell. The man was breathing heavily, each breath a visible effort.

"Hold on a little longer," Vincenzo said, his voice choked. "Just a little longer."

The bodyguard smiled once more. A peaceful smile.

"No, sir…" he replied respectfully. "With all due respect… I'm resigning."

The lump in my throat turned into pure pain. Nancy brought her hand to her mouth, crying without trying to hide it. Rafael, still in Vincenzo's lap, reached out his little hand and took the man's.

The bodyguard looked at him with genuine admiration. With pride.

Then, he looked back at Vincenzo.

"Permission… to rest, sir?"

Vincenzo swallowed hard. For the first time since I'd met him, there was no hardness in him. Only humanity. He nodded slowly.

"Permission granted."

The bodyguard sighed. A long, serene sigh. And then… he was gone.

Silence returned to the warehouse, heavy and definitive.

I hugged Nancy tightly. Vincenzo closed his eyes for a moment, holding Rafael more firmly. The boy was safe. We were saved.

But the price… the price had been high.

Still, I knew in that moment: despite the pain, despite the losses, the darkness had not won.

Rafael was in his father's arms.

Vincenzo held my hand firmly, as if that simple gesture was the anchor that kept him in the present. I felt the grip, warm, real. He looked around the shed one last time, took a deep breath—that kind of breath that comes from the depths of the soul—and said:

"Let's go home."

Those three words sounded more powerful than any gunshot. Home. After all, there was still a place called that.

Before we could take two steps, the sound of sirens ripped through the air. The police arrived in force, surrounding the place, passing by us like a river around a stone: quick, focused, without stopping us. They went straight to Oliver. One of them knelt down, checked his pulse, and announced loudly that he was still alive. My stomach churned.

Oliver was handcuffed right there, still unconscious, and carried to the car like a burden too heavy to handle carefully. The police officers began to give instructions, saying that we would all need to accompany them to give statements.

Everything seemed distant. As if I were watching that scene from outside my own body.

We got up and followed them, almost in silence. It was then that something hit me hard enough to make me stop.

— We can't “Leave him here,” I said, my voice faltering.

Vincenzo looked at me immediately. I didn’t even need to explain. He knew exactly who I was talking about.

He turned to one of the policemen and spoke in Japanese, his voice firm, full of respect. I didn’t understand the words, but I understood the tone. He asked that this man have a dignified burial. A silent hero couldn’t be treated like a statistic.

The guard listened attentively. Then, to my surprise, he answered in our language:

“Of course. You can take your friend’s body home.”

Friend.

That word pierced me like a blade and, at the same time, like a hug. My eyes filled with tears again, but this time it wasn’t just pain. It was gratitude. It was humanity. Vincenzo had called that man a friend. Not a subordinate. Not an employee. A friend.

After that… everything turned to shadow.

The police station was a blur of cold lights, repeated questions, and half-empty glasses of water forgotten. The testimonies mingled in my head. The serious faces. The weariness that weighed on my bones.

The preparation to return to Italy came as if someone had pressed the fast-forward button of life. Suitcases. Documents. Silences that were too long. Rafael always nearby, now quieter, as if he were absorbing the world with eyes too attentive for someone only seven years old.

And then… the mansion.

The main staircases of the Morette Mansion appeared before us like something from an old dream. Or a nightmare that had learned to disguise itself as home. I climbed those steps with a racing heart, feeling a strange sense of unreality.

As if all of that had happened to someone else.

We went inside. We ate together. Something simple. Something normal. Nancy talked too much, clearly trying to fill the empty spaces with words. Vincenzo watched Rafael with a silent, almost reverent attention, as if he still couldn't believe he was there. At home. In his house.

Afterwards, I went up to my room. As soon as I lay down, my body simply shut down. There were no dreams. None. It was like flipping a switch. Off.

But even in absolute darkness, even without images, my brain worked. Processed. Relived. Tried to understand.

What had it all been?

A nightmare too vivid to be ignored. A lucid dream too long to be invented. A story that seemed too big to fit inside me… and yet, now, was part of who I was.

When I woke up, hours later, I knew: some adventures don't ask permission to happen. They simply tear our lives in two and force us to be reborn on the other side.

And that one… that one I would never forget.