I crossed the remaining distance in long strides, stepping over bodies and debris as bullets continued to fly around us. When Irounded the crates, Belle looked up, her face streaked with tears and dirt, eyes wild with terror and hope.
"Dario," she gasped, and then she was moving, throwing herself into my arms with such force I nearly staggered.
I wrapped my arms around her, one hand cradling the back of her head as she sobbed against my chest. The familiar scent of her hair reached me even through the acrid smell of gunpowder and blood. She was trembling violently, her fingers clutching the fabric of my ruined suit as if afraid I might disappear. "I've got you," I murmured against her hair, my voice rough with emotions I rarely allowed myself to feel. "You're safe now. I've got you."
Her body shook with silent sobs. I tightened my hold, allowing myself one moment of pure relief before the reality of our situation reasserted itself. We were still in danger. Vincent might have retreated, but many of his men remained, and the warehouse had become a killing field.
"Matteo?" I met the other man’s gaze over Belle's head, not loosening my protective grip.
"Most of Rossi's men are down," he reported, reloading his weapon with practiced efficiency. "Vincent escaped through the north exit with three guards. Alessandro is tracking them with some of my men."
I nodded once, already calculating our next move. Belle's safety came first. Everything else, including my desire to put a bullet between Vincent's eyes, would have to wait. Vittorio appeared beside us, gun drawn, his usually immaculate suit now splattered with blood and grime. His eyes quickly assessed Belle before meeting mine. "We need to move. Now."
I pulled back slightly, looking down at Belle's tear-stained face. "Can you walk?"
She nodded, trying to compose herself despite the tremors still running through her body. "Yes," she whispered, her voice raw.
"Stay close to me," I instructed, keeping one arm around her shoulders as I drew my weapon again with my free hand.
We began moving toward the south exit, the most direct route to our waiting vehicles. I positioned my body to shield Belle's smaller frame, hyperaware of every shadow and movement around us. Matteo cleared our path, dispatching a wounded Rossi gunman with a double tap to the head when he raised his weapon as we passed.
Belle flinched at the sound of the shot, pressing herself closer to my side. I murmured reassurances, keeping my voice steady and calm despite the fury still coursing through me. For her, I would be an anchor, not another source of fear.
The exit was twenty feet away when gunfire erupted again from our right. I spun instantly, pushing Belle behind me as I returned fire. Two of Vincent's men had emerged from behind a forklift, desperate and cornered. Matteo dropped to one knee, squeezing off three shots, silencing them permanently.
"Clear," Matteo called, already back on his feet and moving toward the door.
Vittorio touched my shoulder. "Dario. Get her out. We'll finish here." I hesitated, torn between my responsibility to lead and my need to ensure Belle's safety. Vittorio read my conflict easily. "Go," he insisted. "This is what we planned. I'll coordinate cleanup. Nothing will trace back to us. Or Belle."
I nodded, my decision made. "Be thorough," I ordered, knowing he understood what I meant. No witnesses. No evidence. Nothing that could be used against our family. With one arm still protectively around Belle, I guided her toward the exit, where the night air promised cooled my sweat-heated skin. Behind us, the sounds of the final confrontation echoed through the warehouse, but I didn't look back. My focus had narrowed to the woman trembling against me and the path to get her home.
I ushered Belle into the waiting SUV, my hand supporting her elbow as she climbed inside on shaking legs. Her body trembled against mine as we settled into the backseat, the adrenaline crash hitting her hard now that immediate danger had passed. Matteo slid into the front passenger seat, barking orders to the driver who immediately pulled away from the warehouse, tires squealing on wet pavement. Through the rear window, the occasional flash of gunfire still illuminated the warehouse interior, Matteo and our men finishing what we'd started.
Belle collapsed against me as the vehicle accelerated, her entire body convulsing with violent tremors. I pulled her onto my lap, cradling her against my chest where my heartbeat gradually steadied from the combat rhythm to something calmer. I moved my hands over carefully, checking for injuries in a gentle but thorough inspection. The rope burns on her wrists were angry and raw, already beginning to bruise. A small cut above her eyebrow had dried, leaving a trail of blood down the side of her face. Her lip was split at the corner. Each mark on her skin felt like a brand on my own flesh, each injury a personal failure. I had promised to keep her safe. I had brought her into my world and then failed to shield her from its dangers.
"Belle," I murmured, tilting her face up to mine. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, tears leaving clean tracks through the dirt and blood on her cheeks. "Look at me, sweetheart." She blinked several times, struggling to focus on my face. Shock. I recognized the symptoms easily enough. "Vittorio," I said, not taking my eyes off Belle. "Water. And the first aid kit."
My brother passed back a bottle of water and a small medical case we kept in all our vehicles. I uncapped the water and held it to Belle's lips. "Small sips," I instructed, watching carefully as she complied, water dribbling slightly from her trembling mouth. "Did they hurt you?" I asked, my voice gentle even as rage coiled within me at the thought. The question carriedweight beyond the visible injuries. If Vincent or his men had touched her in any other way, there wouldn't be enough pieces left of them to identify.
She shook her head, a small motion that released fresh tears. "No," she whispered, the first word she'd spoken since we left the warehouse. "They just... smacked me a couple of times. I think I hit my head too. Mostly they just scared me. Said things about what would happen if..." Her voice broke on a sob.
"Shh," I soothed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "It's over now. You're safe."
I opened the first aid kit and retrieved an antiseptic wipe, carefully cleaning the cut on her forehead. She winced but didn't pull away. Next, I gently cleaned her wrists, anger flaring anew at the raw skin. "I need to wrap these," I told her, keeping my voice steady. "The ointment will help with the pain."
She nodded mutely, watching my face as I tended to her injuries with the same precision I applied to everything in my life. My hands, which had dealt death less than ten minutes ago, now moved with extraordinary gentleness over her delicate skin. Outside the windows, the city blurred by as our driver took us away from the docks at high speed. I glanced back once to see the warehouse now fully engulfed in orange flames that reached toward the night sky, reflecting off the harbor waters. Matteo's work. Fire cleansed evidence better than anything else. If it was hot enough. Matteo would make sure it was hot enough.
The sight should have satisfied me, but it didn't. Vincent had escaped. He would regroup, and he would try again. The war I had been expecting for years had finally broken into the open, and Belle had become its first casualty. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I retrieved it with my free hand, the other still wrapped protectively around Belle's shoulders.
"Yes," I answered, my voice clipped.
"It's done," Alessandro's voice came through clearly. "Warehouse is being sanitized. No survivors on site. Vincent is in the wind, but we're tracking. Three of his lieutenants didn't make it out."
I absorbed this information with cold satisfaction. "And our side?"
"Two injuries, nothing critical. No losses."
"Good work. Bring everyone home." I ended the call, tucking the phone away and returning my full attention to Belle. She had stopped shaking quite so violently, though tremors still ran through her small frame intermittently. Color had begun to return to her face, replacing the alarming pallor from earlier.
