"This conversation isn't over," I tell Luca, but I'm looking at Rocco as I say it.
"I hope it is," Luca replies. "For everyone's sake."
We turn and walk back toward the street, but I can feel eyes tracking our movement. The reporters surge forward, shouting questions about my relationship with Rosaria, about the connection between last night's attack and the ongoing Mafia war. Bruno creates space between us and the cameras, his presence enough to keep them at a respectful distance.
We're halfway across the street when Rocco emerges from the building. He moves with deceptive casualness, his hands empty but ready. The police officers at the door don't stop him—they know who he is, know whose protection he carries.
"Salvatore," he calls out, his voice carrying the weight of decades in Emilio's service. "A word."
Bruno's hand moves toward his jacket, but I shake my head. This is exactly what Emilio wants—a public confrontation, cameras rolling, police watching. A reason to escalate this war into the open.
"Say what you came to say, Rocco."
He stops ten feet away, close enough to be heard but far enough to maintain the illusion of civilized discourse. "My boss sends his regards. And his advice."
"I'm listening."
"Back off. Walk away from the girl and return to Naples. Forget whatever ideas you have about protecting her or building a future together. This is your only warning."
The crowd around us has gone quiet, sensing the tension crackling between us. Cameras continue to flash, but the reporters have stopped shouting questions. Even they recognize the danger in this moment.
"And if I don't?"
Rocco's smile is cold and empty. "Then you die. And everyone who stands with you dies. Emilio's patience has limits, and you've reached them."
Bruno steps forward, his hand now resting openly on his weapon. "Is that a threat?"
"It's a promise," Rocco replies, his eyes never leaving mine. "Walk away, Salvatore. While you still can."
He turns and walks back toward the opera house, confident in his message and his protection. The police officers watch him go without interference, their allegiance clear. But as he reaches the steps, Bruno calls out.
"Tell your boss we'll be in touch."
Rocco stops, his massive frame tensing. When he turns back to face us, the mask of civility has slipped. "You want to play? Let's play."
His hand moves inside his jacket, and Bruno's gun clears leather in response. Shouts erupt from the crowd as people dive for cover behind parked cars. The police officers draw their weapons, but their targets aren't clear—too many civilians, too much chaos.
I grab Bruno's arm and pull him toward our car as the first shots ring out. Rocco's bullet sparks off the pavement where I was standing a second before. Bruno returns fire, his shots shattering the opera house windows as Rocco dives behind a police car.
We reach our vehicle as sirens begin to wail. Bruno starts the engine while I keep my weapon trained on the opera house entrance. More shots follow us as we pull away from the curb, our rear window exploding in a shower of glass.
"North," I shout over the sound of squealing tires and gunfire. "Get us to the highway."
Bruno takes the first right at speed, the car sliding sideways before finding traction. Behind us, police cars are already givingchase, their sirens growing louder as they close the distance. The narrow Roman streets work against us—too many corners, too many opportunities for ambush.
"There." I point toward an alley between two apartment buildings. "Cut through."
Bruno yanks the wheel hard left, the car scraping against brick walls as we squeeze through the gap. We emerge onto a parallel street, momentarily clear of pursuit. But I can hear them regrouping, radio chatter coordinating the search.
"The ring road," Bruno says, reading my thoughts. "Once we're on the highway, we can disappear."
We make it to the on-ramp as the first police car rounds the corner behind us. Bruno floors the accelerator, pushing our car past its limits as we merge into traffic. The engine screams in protest, but we're pulling away now, gaining distance on our pursuers.
Twenty minutes later, we exit onto a service road that leads to an abandoned industrial complex. Bruno kills the engine and we sit in the sudden silence, both of us breathing hard from the adrenaline crash.
"They won't let you near her," Bruno says finally. "Emilio's locked her down tight. And after today..."
"After today, she's in more danger than ever." I check my phone, hoping for a message from Rosaria, but there's nothing. "Emilio sees her as a liability now. The scandal, the attention—it's exactly what he's spent years trying to avoid."
