Vittorio
Vittorio cautiously exited the room, grinding his teeth as he swept the hallway with his gun. Fuck. This could not be happening right now. He wanted more time with Sharon, more time to show her how much she truly meant to him.
But now that was in jeopardy, along with both of their lives. He would protect her at all costs, but what was coming… well, he would fucking fight until the end.
Vittorio heard the front door splinter as it was pushed in, probably by some fucking heavy object, and he swallowed, wishing that he had gotten to his stash in time. Sharon had been his priority, the safe room finally coming in handy for the first time since he’d had it installed.
But he could not stay in there with her, hiding like a coward. She didn’t understand, but that was not his nature. He was a fucking fighter and this was going to end here, today, if he could help it.
If he could survive.
Letting out a slow breath, Vittorio managed to slide into the hall bathroom before he heard the voices. He braced himself on the counter so he could watch them walk down the hall. He had a full clip, enough to take out a few before he would have to use his fists.
“Where are you, Contarini!?”
Rocco Anafesto himself had come. Vittorio cocked his gun and peered out into the hall, waiting until the shadows came closer before he unloaded a few shots. The screams that followed told him the bullets had found their mark, but he had nowhere near enough to take them all down. A volley of bullets sprayed down the hall and into the bathroom door, near his head. Vittorio was forced to abandon his post.
Shit. This was going to be bad.
“Don’t fucking kill him!” Anafesto shouted above the hail of gunfire. “Stupid fuckers! I want to do it.”
Vittorio let out a slow breath before he aimed for the hallway once more, but they were much too close. A bullet clipped his calf muscle. The searing pain caused his knee to buckle and he went down hard. Before he could get back on his feet, they were at the doorway.
“There he is,” Anafesto grinned, stepping on Vittorio’s wrist before he could aim at him.
The pain was blinding as he crushed the bones under his heel, but Vittorio refused to let out a single sound. He took a wild swing with his free hand before he was subdued and dragged out into the living room, his body colliding with the dead goons in the hallway he had been able to take down.
“Well now, this is going to be fun.”
“Why don’t you call off your dogs,” Vittorio said as he was held up by two of Rocco’s men, blood trickling out of his leg wound and onto the pristine carpeting. “And fight me like a man.”
Rocco laughed, his entire body jiggling with the movement.
“Are you fucking serious? What fun would that be? You’ve been taunting me for days now, begging me to come and do damage to you. Well, I’m here and I’m ready to do so.” He looked over at one of the men with him, snapping his fingers. “Go and search the damn place. Make sure we don’t have anyone hiding.”
Vittorio forced himself not to show emotion as the goon scurried off, hoping like hell that he wouldn’t even notice the false closet. While safe, it wasn’t impenetrable, and all they needed was his thumb print to open the damn thing.
Rocco shrugged off his coat, rolling up his sleeves as he leered at Vittorio.
“You know, Contarini, you are a pain in my ass, burning my establishments down and freeing my women. What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t you know this is how you and I should be?”
“I’m nothing like you,” Vittorio growled, straining against the men that held him.
His fucking wrist was limp, and his leg felt like it was on fire, but he could still fight. He would go down fighting.
Rocco laughed harshly, grabbing Vittorio’s hair and forcing his head back.
“You’re right. You are nothing like me. You’re weak, nothing like you should be with that name attached to your ass.”
“Better mine than yours, you sick fuck.”
Rocco’s gaze hardened and he hit Vittorio across the face.
“You are gonna hurt for that one.”
“You hit like a bitch.”
Rocco nodded and one of his muscles stepped up, punching Vittorio hard in the face. Vittorio felt blood explode from his nose, the pain following. The man hit him again, splitting his lip and nearly breaking his jaw. Stars exploded in his eyes as he fought to catch his breath, the pain so intense that he was glad he was being held up or else he would have been on the floor in a heap. The next blow landed in his gut and he lost his breath, gasping as he felt a sharp pain in his side.
Fucking broken ribs.
“Again.”
The fucker landed another punch to the side of his head and Vittorio fought against the wave of blackness.
He could not pass out.
He could not give up.
There were lives at stake.
“You see? There’s a difference between you and I,” Rocco started as Vittorio spit blood onto the carpet, barely able to see the man in front of him. “I always have a plan. You fucking burn down my buildings? Fine, go on ahead. I got fifty more to replace what I lost. Kill my men, burn them alive? Fine. I have one hundred more fuckers to take their place.”
“All fucking idiots,” Vittorio forced out, attempting to smile at him.
Rocco laughed as Vittorio earned himself another fist to his side.
“We could have been good together, you and I, taking over this fucking city.”
Vittorio gritted his teeth against the pain in his side. Hell, he had pain all over.
“You’re not my type, sorry.”
“Smart ass,” the goon doing the beating sneered, slapping him across the face. “Show some respect.”
“Now, now,” Rocco tsked, holding his hand up. “We don’t wanna kill him, just yet. I want him to hurt as I have hurt over this last week. I want him to feel my pain.”