Page 35 of The Bratty Heir

Rocco's heart leapt into his throat as he watched Victor charge headlong into danger. Without hesitation, he followed, ignoring the screams of protest from his battered body.

The scene inside was pure chaos. Smoke filled the air, making it difficult to see or breathe. Panicked clubgoers pushed and shoved, desperate to escape the growing inferno.

Victor's voice cut through the din, barking orders to the staff and any patrons coherent enough to listen. Rocco did his best to help, guiding people towards the exits and checking dark corners for anyone left behind.

As they neared the back of the club, a sickening crack echoed overhead. Rocco looked up just in time to see a section of the ceiling give way.

"Victor!" he screamed, throwing himself forward without thought.

His body collided with Victor's larger frame, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Burning debris rained down around them, missing them by mere inches.

For a moment, they lay there tangled together, hearts racing in perfect sync. Victor's arms tightened around Rocco, crushing him to his broad chest.

"You stupid, reckless, beautiful idiot," Victor growled, his voice rough with emotion. "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 smoke burned his lungs. "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 ominous groan of stressed metal. Victor cursed, hauling Rocco to his feet.

"We need to move," he growled, keeping one arm wrapped protectively around Rocco's waist. "This whole place is about to come down."

They stumbled towards the exit, dodging falling debris and helping stragglers along the way. The heat was oppressive, sweat mingling with soot on their skin.

Just as they reached the door, another explosion rocked the building. Victor shoved Rocco forward, shielding him with his body as they burst out into the cool night air.

They collapsed on the pavement, coughing and gasping. Rocco clung to Victor, his face buried in the older man's chest. The steady thump of Victor's heartbeat grounded him, a reminder that they were alive, they were safe.

For now.

As sirens wailed in the distance, Victor pulled back slightly, his eyes raking over Rocco's form. "Are you hurt?" he demanded, hands roaming Rocco's body with desperate intensity.

Rocco shook his head, wincing as the movement aggravated his various bruises. "I'm okay. Just some scrapes and?—"

His words were cut off as Victor crushed their lips together. The kiss was brutal, all teeth and tongue and barely contained fear. Rocco melted into it, pouring every ounce of his own terror and relief into the connection.

When they finally broke apart, both panting, Victor rested his forehead against Rocco's. "Don't ever do that to me again," he growled, his voice rough with emotion. "I can't lose you, baby. I won't."

Rocco's heart clenched at the raw honesty in Victor's tone. He opened his mouth to respond, to pour out the tangled mess of feelings in his chest.

But before he could speak, a commotion near the police barricade caught their attention. Rocco's blood ran cold as he recognized the imposing figure striding towards them.

His father.

Giovanni Rossetti's face was a mask of cold fury as he took in the scene. His eyes locked on Rocco and Victor, still tangled together on the ground.

"Both of you," he barked, voice sharp as a whip crack. "My office. Now."

As they scrambled to their feet, Rocco couldn't shake the feeling that they'd just leapt from the frying pan into the fire. The Inferno might be reduced to ashes, but the real inferno was just beginning.

Victor's hand found his as they made their way to Giovanni's waiting car. Rocco squeezed it tightly, drawing strength from the connection.

Whatever came next, they would face it together. Of that, at least, he was certain.

The drive back to the Rossetti compound passed in tense silence. Rocco's mind raced with possibilities, each scenario more dire than the last. Would his father disown him? Cut him off completely? Or worse, separate him from Victor permanently?

As they pulled up to the grand entrance, Rocco's stomach churned with dread. Victor's hand on the small of his back was a steadying presence as they made their way to Giovanni's study.

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