Page 29 of The Bratty Heir

"I... I don't know what he's talking about," Frankie stammered. "Mr. Bianchi, tell them?—"

But Bianchi's cold laugh cut him off. "Oh, Frankie. So eager to please, so painfully transparent. I'm afraid you've outlived your usefulness."

Before anyone could react, Bianchi pulled a gun from his jacket and fired. Frankie crumpled to the ground, a neat hole in the center of his forehead.

For a heartbeat, the world stood still. Then all hell broke loose.

Victor tackled Rocco to the ground as bullets began to fly. They scrambled for cover behind an overturned table, the sounds of gunfire and shattering glass filling the air.

"Stay down," Victor growled, his body a solid shield over Rocco's smaller frame. "I told you to let me handle it, you reckless little shit."

Despite the dire situation, heat pooled in Rocco's belly at Victor's possessive tone. He couldn't help but push back, even now.

"Aww, were you worried about me, Daddy?" Rocco purred, adrenaline making him bold.

Victor's eyes flashed dangerously, his grip on Rocco tightening. "When this is over, I'm going to bend you over my knee and spank that sass right out of you."

The promise sent a shiver down Rocco's spine, arousal warring with the very real fear of their current predicament. But before he could retort, a fresh volley of gunfire peppered their meager shelter.

"We need to move," Victor said, all business once more. "On my signal, make a run for the service entrance. Don't stop, don't look back. Understood?"

Rocco nodded, heart pounding in his chest. Part of him wanted to argue, to insist on staying and fighting. But he knew Victor was right. They were outgunned and outnumbered.

"Now!" Victor shouted, laying down cover fire as Rocco sprinted across the room.

They burst through the service door into a maze of back hallways. Victor took the lead, navigating the twists and turns with practiced ease. Rocco followed close behind, the sounds of pursuit nipping at their heels.

As they rounded a corner, Rocco caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Without thinking, he shoved Victor aside just as a shot rang out.

White-hot pain exploded in Rocco's shoulder. He stumbled, vision blurring as the world tilted sideways.

"Rocco!" Victor's roar seemed to come from very far away. Strong arms caught him as he fell, cradling him against a broad chest.

"'M fine," Rocco slurred, fighting to stay conscious. "Just a scratch."

Victor's face swam into focus above him, etched with a mixture of fury and gut-wrenching fear. "You stupid, reckless, beautiful idiot," he growled, pressing a hand to Rocco's bleeding shoulder. "If you die on me, I swear to God I'll bring you back just to kill you myself."

Rocco managed a weak smile, even as pain radiated through his body. "Didn't know you cared so much, old man."

Victor's eyes flashed with an emotion Rocco couldn't quite name. "You have no idea, little one," he murmured, his voice surprisingly tender.

The moment was shattered by the sound of approaching footsteps. Victor cursed, gathering Rocco into his arms.

"Hold on," he growled. "This is going to hurt."

With that, Victor took off running, cradling Rocco against his chest. Each step sent jolts of agony through Rocco's injured shoulder, but he bit his lip to keep from crying out. He wouldn't give their pursuers the satisfaction.

They burst out of a fire exit into the cool night air. Victor's car was waiting, engine already purring. He shoved Rocco into the passenger seat before peeling away from the curb, tires squealing in protest.

As they sped through the darkened streets, Rocco's mind whirled. The betrayal, the shootout, the searing pain in his shoulder... it was all too much.

"How did we miss it?" he muttered, more to himself than Victor. "Frankie... he was right under our noses the whole time."

Victor's grip tightened on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched. "We got complacent," he said, voice rough with self-recrimination. "Trusted the wrong people."

Rocco's heart clenched at the 'we.' Even after everything, Victor still considered them a team. But for how long?

"I'm sorry," Rocco whispered, the words catching in his throat. "For not listening to you, for putting us in danger. I just... I wanted to prove myself."

---