Chapter 46

forty-six

GIOVANNI

The silhouettes slid through the shadows, their movements fluid and predatory. My heart pounded, adrenaline surging as I counted the seconds before all hell broke loose.

“Fuck,” I muttered, tightening my grip on my gun. Out here, I was a sitting duck, exposed and vulnerable.

Another crack of gunfire shattered the tense silence.

I dove for cover behind a stack of wooden pallets, splinters exploding everywhere as it was peppered with bullets. The acrid scent of gunpowder filled my nostrils. My finger tensed around the trigger as I popped up and returned fire, muscle memory taking over.

Two precise shots. Twin thuds as bodies hit concrete.

But more were coming. Always more.

I ducked back down. “I need backup on the west side!” I hissed through the earpiece as I reloaded.

My hands didn’t shake, but phantom pain lanced through old scars hidden beneath my shirt. Memories of past firefights threatened to surface, but I shoved them down. No time for that shit now.

The metallic tang of blood coated my tongue, and I realized I’d bitten down hard enough to make myself bleed. I spat, but the taste of copper lingered.

I blew out a breath. “Come on, you Valentino fucks,” I growled, more to steady myself than anything.

Another volley of shots pinged off the wood, showering me with more splinters. I flinched as one sliced across my cheek, a thin line of warmth trickling down.

My thoughts flashed to Kitania, her ice-blue eyes wide with fear. I never wanted to see that look on her face again. The need to protect her, to get back to her, burned in my chest. It was a foreign feeling, this raw desperation. For most of my life, I’d been guarded, keeping everyone but family at arm’s length.

But her... That woman had slipped past my defenses without even trying.

I returned fire, the loud bangs echoing through the night. Another body dropped.

“Giovanni!” Marco’s voice cracked through my earpiece. “I’m coming your way. Hold on!”

I grunted in acknowledgment, not wasting breath on words. My finger squeezed again and again. The gun’s recoil was a familiar comfort against my palm.

More deafening pops rang out, closer now. I could hear the Valentinos shouting to each other, their voices edged with panic as our guys began fighting back, picking them off one by one.

Good. Let ‘em feel what it’s like to be hunted.

My mind raced, calculating angles and trajectories. I needed to move, to get a better vantage point. But leaving cover meant exposing myself.

“Fuck it,” I muttered, tensing my muscles to spring.

Just then, a figure darted into view. I nearly squeezed the trigger before recognizing Marco’s silhouette.

“About damn time!” I growled, covering him as he joined me behind my shitty wooden fortress.

He slid through the dirt, pulling off a slide a professional baseball player would be proud of.

“You really know how to throw a party, G.” Marco grinned, his eyes bright with energy and adrenaline.

I rolled mine, but smirked in response. “Yeah, well, I like to keep things interesting.”

Another shot ricocheted nearby, pinging off of something metal with a loud clang. We both ducked, then exchanged a nod, a silent promise to protect each other and finish this fight, once and for all.

“I got your back, brother,” Marco panted, his eyes turning hard as glass.

Side by side, we fired into the darkness, our movements practiced, fluid. A well-oiled machine, honed by years of training and bloodshed.

“We can’t hold them off forever!” he shouted, ducking to avoid a near hit.

He was right. Our ammo wouldn’t last much longer.

Through the haze of smoke and gunfire, I spotted a familiar figure heading toward us radiating such hate that there was no doubt who he was, even under the guise of night.

Rocco.

DIMITRI

I was already moving, flying down the metal grate staircase and aiming for the door that I’d seen Giovanni walk out only minutes before. I ripped my gun from its holster, taking aim and blasting off a round toward the men encroaching on the warehouse.

The Valentinos were here in force, just as we’d expected—thank fuck—except that Gio and Marco were never supposed to be outside when they showed.

Goddamn it!

The Valentinos’ return fire strafed the ground, sparking off concrete and splintering the wood of the shipping containers. I dove behind a stack of crates, my shoulder slamming hard against the rough surface, then peeked out to survey the madness.

The weight of my gun was familiar, a deadly extension of my arm that was primed and ready. I unleashed shot after shot as I provided cover for Marco and Gio to move, to make it back to the safety of the warehouse and out of the goddamn line of fire.

“Cover ‘em!” I shouted to my men, and together we peppered the darkness with a storm of rounds while my brothers scrambled inside.

The loud pops continued, but I spared a glance toward the side entrance where Marco and Gio had slipped through. They dove behind a stack of wooden crates, back in relative safety. Relief washed over me, but it was quickly replaced by icy dread as I spotted Gio’s pained wince.

His shoulder had a new hole in it, blood seeping through the fabric of his shirt.

“Motherfucker,” I growled, viciously pulling the trigger, seeking revenge, desperate for an outlet to vent all this… rage .

“Gio’s been hit.” Marco’s voice crackled through my earpiece.

“How bad is it?” I rumbled back, needing to know the answer, and yet dreading it all the same.

“He’s bleeding pretty good. I’m putting pressure on it but I don’t think it went through the other side. We’re gonna need Doc.”

“It’ll hold,” Gio spat. “Where’s Rocco?”

“Haven’t seen him.”

“He’s here. Spotted the fucker right before we got back inside.”

A bullet whizzed past me, too close for goddamn comfort. My adrenaline spiked, and I tightened my grip on my weapon. I shifted to a position near the rear loading bay doors that offered me a better vantage point.

Back pressed to the wall, gun poised, I peered around the edge. And that’s when I saw him.

“I’ve got eyes on him,” I confirmed, focus narrowing, finger twitching on the trigger, ready to end this shit.

Rocco stalked through the night like a predator, the pools of light that lit the empty stretch of pavement illuminating his face. Those twisted features were unmistakable, and the smug set of his mouth made my blood boil.

The man was a cockroach. It didn’t matter how many times we’d tried to stamp him out; he always came crawling back.

But tonight, his luck would finally run out.

I readied myself to aim at the asshole, my finger hovering on the trigger. I stole another glance, noting that the bastard was moving with a slow, deliberate confidence, as if he believed himself invincible. The men that had gone before him, his first line of defense, weren’t faring as well; they dropped like flies under our onslaught, my men firing from every available door and window, unleashing hell on earth.

But being the shitty leader he was, Rocco seemed unconcerned about the ones who sacrificed their lives for his fucked up revenge. He advanced on the warehouse with a single-minded purpose that matched my own.

He wanted to take us out as badly as we craved to see him dead.

I didn’t have to answer, because at that moment, Rocco paused just out of firing range, scanning the chaos with an almost casual indifference. He raised a hand, signaling his men to hold their fire. The sudden silence was deafening as we did the same.

I ducked back behind the safety of the brick wall, biding my time, ready to make my move. But I’d only get one, which meant it had to be fucking flawless.

“Cristenellos!” he bellowed, voice strong and full of bravado. There hadn’t been a gun in his hand. However, I’d noted the men flanking either side of him had their weapons drawn.

My aim had to be perfect, my barreled pointed squarely at his head or his heart.

I gave my men the signal, watching the teams I’d set up for just this scenario bleed from the side exits. They blended into the shadows, moving to surround our enemies.

Dark satisfaction settled over me. “Nowhere left to run, Rocco,” I hollered. “Thought you’d like to know this is the end of the line.”

“You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?” he taunted. “You Cristenellos believe you own everything. But you can’t protect everyone.”

His words hit a nerve, but I pushed down the fury flaring in my chest. This wasn’t about giving him the satisfaction of seeing me angry. This was about keeping control and putting a bullet through that smug face of his.

“You talk a big game for a man who’s about to lose everything,” I seethed.

I dared another glance, mentally noting everyone’s positions.

Under the sickly yellow light swathing the empty lot, Rocco’s grin widened, a gleam of triumph in his eyes. “Oh, you think you’ve got the upper hand, don’t you? That I just wandered in here blind? You and your little plans, Cristenello—you honestly thought I wouldn’t find out this was all a setup? You should be more careful about who you trust. Not everyone you pay is loyal.”

My gut twisted, that fury finally boiling over, but I held steady.

Come on, asshole. Just a bit closer…

Rocco’s voice darkened as he spat, “As for your precious Omega, I’ve got eyes on her, too. It’s only a matter of time before she joins you in the afterlife—or maybe I’ll change my mind and keep her. Chain her up again. Knot her anytime I please. Watch her suffer without her Alphas.” He sneered, his words venomous. “I’ll make her wish you never saved her.”

The world constricted around me, a tunnel of unadulterated hatred with Rocco at its center. Kitania’s broken voice echoed in my mind; the fear she’d expressed, the pain she’d endured. The thought of her suffering again—of this monster laying even a finger on her—was more than I could take.

Everything went crimson. I didn’t think, didn’t calculate, didn’t breathe.

I flew into motion, rounding into the loading bay. The trigger yielded under the applied pressure; the gun kicking back with a satisfying jolt as the shot rang out, piercing the thick silence like a scream.

Rocco flinched, his gaze widening in surprise. But he didn’t fall, the bullet shy of its mark.

Slowly, his mouth curled into a sinister grin, cruel eyes gleaming with malicious delight. “That’s your problem, Cristenello. You’re soft. Weak. All because of her. That little Omega? She’s nothing but your Achilles’ heel.”

I thought he’d kill me, out in the open as I was. All it would take is one shot from any of his guys who were closer in range than he was. Instead of ordering my demise, his hand twitched toward something on his belt—a small, metallic device. With a slow, mocking chuckle, Rocco held it up.

My gut dropped. A detonator.

His gaze fixed on me across the distance as his finger hovered over the button. “Say goodbye to everything you think you own.”

Every heartbeat pulsed with a singular focus. I had seconds to act.

“Get down!” I barked to my men, my family, back in the warehouse, my voice echoing through the cavernous space with enough Alpha authority to make each one in the vicinity yield and obey.

But it was too late.

Rocco pressed the button, and the world went white.