Page 30 of One Savage Union

“Breathe through this. Shallow, slow. I’m going to carry you out to the car once we get downstairs. Keep your eyes on my back. Don’t look around. I don’t know how many bodies are outside this corridor—and I’d rather not have you vomiting all over my suit.”

My stomach lurches anyway.

Bodies.

People are dead.

Because of me.

I nod, dazed—and then it hits me. I’m in nothing but a robe. No bra. No panties. My cheeks flame, panic blooming again.

Before I can speak, Rocco’s eyes flick down, then back up—reading me like a book I didn’t mean to open.

“Don’t worry, wife.”

His voice is cold. Sharp. Final.

“No one will look. They know if they do, I’ll rip their eyes out and shove them down their throats.”

Well then.

So much for modesty.

“Stay to the walls,” he barks over his shoulder as he slinks through the hallway like a panther, fast and silent. I follow his movements with wide, fearful eyes—until we hit the staircase.

And that’s when I see it.

A body sprawled across the landing. Half a face.

Gone.

I gag. My knees buckle.

“Easy, piccola ragazza,” he murmurs, suddenly beside me. “This is what I was trying to spare you. Come to me.”

Before I can blink, I’m scooped back into his arms. This time, he pulls me in tighter, pressing my face to his chest like I’m something precious, breakable. His grip is brutal, protective like he’ll personally murder the next shadow that even breathes too close.

He takes the stairs fast and silently, and I let him. I want no part of the hell we’re leaving behind. A few days ago, my life was music, laughter, and love. Now it’s death in doorways and strangers dying because of the blood in my veins.

And I’m not angry at Rocco.

I’m not even angry at Leo.

I’m furious at my mother.

She should’ve told me who my father was. She should’ve prepared me for this life. Instead, she left like a thief in the night, and now I’m the one paying the price. I might never forgive her for that.

“Boss, they got all three of ours. But we dropped ten of theirs,” Mario’s voice cuts through the smoke like a blade. “No tats, no Romano ink. No oaths. Just paid muscle. Mercs.”

Ten bodies. God. They're out here somewhere—limbs twisted, eyes wide, blood soaking the concrete.

I feel Rocco tense beneath me. Then his palm presses harder to the back of my head, shielding me from it all.

His voice drops, low and lethal.

“Fuck.”

“We shouldn’t have lost anyone. Leo shouldn’t have found this place so fast. What the fuck, Mario? I pay Enzo a goddamn fortune to make sure this doesn’t happen.”

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