Vincent's smile widened as he glanced toward Belle. "She's quite the pretty little thing. I can see why you're fond of her." He walked toward her, and I fought to keep my expression neutral as his hand brushed her hair from her face in a mockery of tenderness. "Quite different from your usual type. Less sophisticated, perhaps, but there's something refreshing about her... simplicity."
Belle flinched away from his touch, her eyes burning with a defiance and hatred that made pride swell in my chest, even through my fury. She wasn't broken. My brave girl.
"This is between our families," I said, each word precise as a blade. "She has nothing to do with it."
Vincent turned back to me, tilting his head slightly. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong, Dario. She has everything to do with it. The moment you looked at her with something other than indifference, she became the most valuable piece on the board." He circled behind Belle's chair, placing his hands on her shoulders. "The untouchable Dario Luca, finally handing me the power to hurt him. Always knew you’d go out on your terms. Never thought it would be with something as unintentional as growing attached to a little whore."
I took one measured step forward. Vincent's men tensed, hands reaching for weapons. "Remove your hands from her."
"Or what?" Vincent challenged, his fingers digging into Belle's shoulders. “I could easily snap her neck and there’s not a Goddamned thing you can do about it.”
"Or… I'll remove your hands from your body," I replied, my tone conversational. "Along with your head."
Vincent laughed, the sound echoing off the metal beams. "You're outnumbered, Dario. Did arrogance finally make you careless? Or does this little bartender mean so much that you've lost your edge?"
I allowed myself a small smile. "I'm never careless, Vincent. Carelessness has always been your weakness. Not mine." His expression faltered for just a second – long enough to confirm he'd sensed something was off. His eyes darted to the shadows, suddenly less certain. "What is it you want?" I asked, drawing his attention back to me. "Money? Territory? Or just the satisfaction of thinking you've finally gotten under my skin?"
"All of the above," Vincent admitted. "Plus the Westside development properties. And your shipping routes through the harbor."
"Ambitious," I commented. "And for that, I get Belle back unharmed?"
"Eventually," Vincent said, smiling again. "After she's served as collateral while you fulfill your end of our arrangement. Insurance, you understand."
I met Belle's gaze briefly. Her eyes communicated everything her gagged mouth couldn't – fear, yes, but also trust. Complete trust in me. The weight of it settled on my shoulders like a familiar burden, one I'd carry gladly and beg to carry further.
"I understand perfectly," I replied, shifting my weight almost imperceptibly to the balls of my feet. From the corner of my eye, I saw Matteo do the same, his hand sliding inside his jacket with casual grace. Vittorio had drifted slightly to my left, widening our formation.
Vincent must have sensed the shift in energy. His smile stiffened as his eyes flicked between the three of us. "You seem very calm for a man whose woman is at my mercy."
"That's because she isn't," I said simply.
I caught Matteo's gaze. "You've made a critical error in judgment, Vincent," I said, my voice dropping to a near whisper that forced him to lean forward slightly to hear me. "You assumed I came here to negotiate."
Vincent's expression hardened as he finally recognized the danger. "And why did you come, Dario?"
I smiled, feeling the ice in my veins turn to smoldering lava. "To show you what happens when you touch. What's.Mine."
The warehouse exploded into motion. Luca enforcers burst through side entrances, the doors crashing open with synchronized precision. Gunfire erupted immediately, the muzzle flashes punctuating the dimness like angry lightning. Vincent's face contorted with rage as he realized the trap, but Matteo was already moving, a blur of deadly efficiency heading straight for Belle. I had only seconds to reach her before Vincent's men could use her as a shield. Or worse.
I launched myself forward as a bullet whizzed past my ear. One of Vincent's guards stepped into my path, raising his weapon but he moved too slow. I drove my fist into his throat before he could aim properly, feeling cartilage collapse under the impact. He dropped to his knees, gasping, and I was already past him, moving toward the next obstacle.
Through the chaos, I tracked Matteo's progress. He'd reached Belle, his knife already slicing through her bindings. A Rossi enforcer lunged toward them, but Matteo caught him with a vicious elbow to the temple that dropped the man instantly. Belle stumbled to her feet as Matteo yanked the tape from her mouth, then pulled her behind a stack of wooden crates for cover.
"Dario! Three o’clock!" Vittorio's warning cut through the cacophony of gunshots.
I spun, seeing a burly man charging at me with a knife. I sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and twisted until bone snapped.His scream was cut short as I slammed his head against a metal support beam. Blood splattered across my white shirt, warm and wet against my skin.
The path to Belle was still blocked by two of Vincent's most trusted enforcers. I recognized them from previous encounters—Jenks and Cole, the same men who had taken her from High Tower. The realization sent fresh fury coursing through me.
Cole fired at me, the bullet grazing my shoulder. The Kevlar vest stopped a second shot from penetrating, but the impact still took my breath. I didn't slow, though. I stumbled forward, using the momentum to drive forward, tackling him at the waist. We crashed to the ground, and I heard the satisfying crunch of his ribs beneath my weight. His gun skittered across the concrete floor. Before he could recover, I drove my fist into his face once, twice, feeling his nose shatter under my knuckles. His eyes rolled back, but I wasn't finished. For touching Belle, for frightening her, he deserved more than unconsciousness.
A bullet embedded itself in the concrete inches from my head, sending fragments of dust into my eyes. Jenks had circled around, trying to flank me. I rolled away from Cole's limp form, drawing my own weapon in one smooth motion. Three shots, center mass. Jenks stumbled backward, surprise etched on his features before he collapsed.
I rose to my feet, my gaze continually returning to the stack of crates where Belle sheltered with Matteo. A Rossi gunman had taken position on the catwalk above them, aiming down. I raised my weapon and fired twice, watching him pitch forward over the railing, his body hitting the ground with a sickening thud.
"Vincent is retreating!" Vittorio shouted from somewhere to my left, but I barely registered his words.
Only Belle mattered. Only reaching her.
