“Elena. Look at me. You breathing?”
“Y-Yes,” I whisper, though I’m not sure it’s true.
He checks me fast—shoulders, arms, legs—then forces me upright against the mangled seat.
“Good,” he mutters, voice rough but focused. “Stay down. Don’t move unless I tell you.” When he pulls his hands back, they’re covered in blood. It’s smeared across his palms, dripping onto the ceiling—which is now the floor.
My heart lurches.
“Rocco… where is that from?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he digs his phone from his pocket and shoves it into my lap.
“You call Alessandro. Now.”
“But you—” He cuts me off with a growl.
“Call him, Elena.”
His eyes flick toward the broken window—calculating, listening. Something outside shifts. A shadow. A footstep. Rocco curses.
“Down,” he orders, pushing my head toward the ground as he crawls toward the shattered passenger side.
“Rocco—”
“Stay down!” he snaps, and then he squeezes my shoulder once—quick, grounding—before forcing himself through the window.
I hear him drop onto the pavement outside.
Then—GUNSHOTS. Loud. Explosive. Close.
I flinch so hard the phone nearly slips from my hands. My breath stutters. My vision blurs. I force myself to grab the phone, fingers trembling, and somehow manage to hit redial. It rings once. Twice.
“Rocco, I said—”
“Ale—” My voice breaks on his name. “A-Alessandro—”
Silence.
Then—“Elena?” A sound like the world cracking open. “What happened? Where are you? Dove—answer me.”
My breath stutters, eyes filling with tears as another wave of smoke curls into the flipped SUV. My throat tightens. “Someone—someone hit us. The SUV rolled. Rocco—he’s outside—and there are gunshots—Alessandro, I’m scared.”
A low, deadly growl fills the line. Then his breathing—harsh, uneven—like he’s already running.
“Elena, listen to me,” he says, voice shaking with barely contained violence. “You stay exactly where you are. Do not move. Do not look outside. I’m coming for you.” There’s another silence. But this one is different. Dark. Deadly. And then his voice drops into something I’ve never heard from him before—A tone that promises violence. Death. War. “Stay where you are,” he says, low and lethal. “I’m coming for you. Right. Now.”
I can hear his car start and the world fades to black.
Chapter 24
The moment I hear my wife over the line, I’m already running. I don’t remember grabbing my keys. I don’t remember getting into the car. I don’t remember blowing through the warehouse gate. I only know one thing:
Elena is in danger.
I slam my foot on the gas, weaving through traffic with reckless precision. I can still hear her voice—shaking, terrified—over and over in my head.
“I’m scared.” “There are gunshots.” “Alessandro—”
