Page 19 of The Bratty Heir

"Hey," he said softly, drawing Rocco's attention. "You did good in there today. Really good. Whatever's coming, we'll face it together. Okay?"

Rocco nodded, trying to draw strength from Victor's unwavering confidence. But as they pulled up to the Rossetti compound, he couldn't shake the gnawing feeling in his gut.

The game had changed, the stakes higher than ever before. And Rocco wasn't sure he was ready for what came next.

CHAPTER 8

UNDER SIEGE

The warehouse loomed before them, a hulking silhouette against the inky night sky. Rocco's heart raced as he crouched behind a stack of crates, the acrid scent of gunpowder stinging his nostrils. Victor's solid presence at his back was the only thing keeping him from spiraling into panic.

"Stay close," Victor growled, his breath hot against Rocco's ear. "And for fuck's sake, try not to get yourself killed."

Rocco bristled at the condescension in Victor's tone. "I'm not a child, Victor. I can handle myself."

Victor's low chuckle sent shivers down Rocco's spine. "Sure you can, princess. That's why Daddy's here to hold your hand."

Before Rocco could fire back a retort, a hail of bullets shattered the relative calm. Glass exploded overhead as the warehouse windows splintered, raining shards down on them. Rocco instinctively ducked, pressing closer to Victor's broad frame.

"Fuck," Victor snarled, returning fire with deadly precision. "Looks like Bianchi's boys decided to crash the party early."

Rocco's mind raced, adrenaline surging through his veins. This was supposed to be a routine shipment, a chance for him to learn the ropes of the family business. Instead, they were pinned down in a goddamn war zone.

"We need to get to the office," Rocco shouted over the din. "The ledgers?—"

Victor cut him off with a sharp shake of his head. "Forget the paperwork. Our priority is getting you out of here alive."

Anger flared in Rocco's chest, hot and fierce. "Those ledgers are worth millions. If Bianchi gets his hands on them?—"

"I said no." Victor's voice was steel, brooking no argument. He grabbed Rocco's arm, yanking him towards the rear exit. "Move. Now."

Rocco jerked free, defiance overriding his common sense. "You don't get to order me around, Victor. I'm not one of your grunts."

For a moment, the chaos around them faded away. Victor's eyes blazed with a mixture of fury and something darker, more primal. He crowded Rocco against the crates, one large hand wrapping around the younger man's throat.

"Listen to me very carefully, you spoiled little brat," Victor growled, his lips a hairsbreadth from Rocco's. "Your father put me in charge of keeping you alive. That means when I give you an order, you fucking follow it. Understood?"

Rocco's pulse thundered in his ears, arousal warring with indignation. He wanted to spit in Victor's face, to rage against the older man's dominance. But a larger part of him craved Victor's approval, ached to submit to that iron will.

"Fine," Rocco bit out, hating how breathless he sounded. "Lead the way, oh fearless protector."

Victor's grip tightened for a moment, a silent warning. Then he was moving, dragging Rocco through the maze of crates and machinery. They dodged bursts of gunfire, Victor's body a human shield between Rocco and danger.

As they neared the rear loading dock, a figure loomed out of the shadows. Victor reacted with lightning speed, shoving Rocco behind him as he engaged the attacker. Rocco watched in awe as Victor moved with brutal grace, disarming the man with a series of precise strikes.

But even Victor wasn't infallible. As he grappled with the assailant, another of Bianchi's men emerged from behind a forklift. Rocco's blood ran cold as he saw the glint of a gun aimed at Victor's exposed back.

Time seemed to slow, clarity crystallizing in Rocco's mind. Without conscious thought, he snatched up a length of pipe from a nearby workbench. The metal was cool and heavy in his hands as he swung with all his might.

The sickening crunch of steel meeting flesh echoed in Rocco's ears. The gunman crumpled, weapon clattering to the ground. Victor whirled at the sound, his eyes widening as he took in the scene.

For a heartbeat, they just stared at each other. Then Victor was on him, large hands cupping Rocco's face as he checked for injuries.

"Are you hurt?" Victor demanded, his voice rough with an emotion Rocco couldn't quite name. "Did he touch you?"

Rocco shook his head, still dazed from the rush of violence. "I'm fine. I just... I couldn't let him hurt you."

Something softened in Victor's gaze, a fleeting tenderness that made Rocco's chest ache. But before either of them could speak, another explosion rocked the warehouse.

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