Page 29 of One Savage Union

“That gunfire?” he continues, voice gravel and steel. “It’s my men returning fire. Leo’s soldiers are dead men walking. But we have to move. I’m going to get you out of here. We’ll go somewhere safe. But you have to listen to me and do exactly what I say—like a good girl. Do you understand?”

No. I don’t. Not at all.

But I nod anyway.

Because I have no one else. No other truth to hold onto. I’m lying on the floor of my husband’s bedroom—surrounded by shattered glass, blood, and promises I never asked for. Outside this room, men are hunting me. Inside it, the devil himself is whispering comfort in my ear.

And God help me… I believe him.

I nod again, slower this time. Controlled.

Rocco watches me. Reading me and calculating the risk. Then, slowly, he lifts his hand from my mouth. I don’t scream.I don’t make a sound. I’m too focused on the one thing that’s keeping me tethered to reality: him.

He raises a single finger to his lips.

Silence.

I mimic the gesture and hold my breath. The gunfire has stopped—but Rocco’s body stays rigid, his movements cautious. He doesn’t know who won. Neither do I.

So, I lie there in the cradle of chaos, waiting for a verdict neither of us can hear yet. And I tell myself:

Be a good girl.

Be quiet.

Survive.

“Alright, Lucia,” Rocco says, voice low but commanding, “we’re going to crawl out of here and head for the stairs. Stay flat, quiet, and on your belly if you need to, hold on to my ankle while I move. I don’t know what the smoke’s like out there, but I’m sure it’s thick. And I’ll be damned if you suffocate on my watch. Nod if you understand.”

I shake my head, more out of panic than defiance. The tears won’t stop, hot and unchecked.

He leans in and wipes one away with his thumb, then presses a kiss just beneath my eye.

It’s soft. Startling. Gentle, where everything else has been chaos.

“Don’t worry, fireball,” he murmurs, the nickname curling around my fear like a flame. “This is just a moment. When I have you safe again, I swear, you will never feel fear like this. And whoever dared come for you tonight… will die by a thousand slow cuts. One for every tear they made you shed.”

It’s brutal. Terrifying.

And exactly what I need to hear.

Because right now, I need to believe this man would burn the world down to keep me breathing.

He slides off me and drops into a controlled crawl. Before he moves, he glances back and raises a finger to his lips again.

Silent. Stay low. Stay with me.

I grab his ankle like he said, and we begin our slow retreat into the unknown.

The hallway greets us with a choking mix of smoke and blood, hot metal and something coppery that sticks in the back of my throat. My lungs revolt. I cough, harsh and uncontrollable. I curse myself for the sound.

“It’s okay,” he calls out roughly. “Stay low. Keep going.”

He rises to a crouch, draws a gun from the small of his back, and sweeps the hallway with trained efficiency. A white handkerchief appears in his hand, and he covers his mouth as he scans. Then he turns back.

“Clear. For now.” His voice drops again, all steel and ice. “Looks like my cousin just wanted to rattle the cage. If he wanted us dead, he’d be here watching me carve his name into the floor with his spine.”

He kneels beside me, presses the handkerchief to my mouth.

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