War of A Rose

War of a Rose • Chapter 51

Chapter Fifty-one
Alessio

As the moon hung in the sky, casting eerie shadows across the empty warehouse, we moved cautiously through the dimly lit corridors. Liliana's voice crackled through our earpieces, her frustration palpable as she struggled to restore the surveillance cameras. Without Enzo's expertise, we were flying blind, relying solely on our instincts and the dim light of our flashlights to guide us.

"I still can't see anything. Fuck, Enzo, tell me what to do!" Liliana's voice echoed in our ears, her desperation mirroring our own. Enzo's attempts to guide her through the technical issues yielded no results, leaving us to navigate the labyrinthine warehouse in search of Rosaelia.

With each empty room we encountered, the tension mounted, the sense of urgency driving us forward. So far, we had encountered only two of Domenico's men, both which were now dead at the entrance of the building.

As we rounded another corner, our footsteps echoing against the concrete floor, we were suddenly confronted by another of Domenico's men. His eyes widened in shock as he spotted us, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun at his waist. Without hesitation, I lunged forward, my own gun drawn and ready.

"Where the fuck is my wife?" I demanded, my voice dripping with fury and desperation. The man's eyes darted nervously between us, but he remained silent, his lips pressed tightly together in defiance. With a snarl of frustration, I pressed the barrel of my gun against his temple, my patience wearing thin.

"Tell me where she is, or I swear to god, I'll blow your fucking brains out," I growled, the threat ringing through the air like a death knell. The man's resolve wavered, fear flickering in his eyes as he finally relented, his words tumbling out in a rush.

"She's... she's in the basement," he stammered, his voice trembling with fear. The words hung heavy in the air, each syllable a damning admission of the horrors that awaited us below. Without waiting for another word, without a moment of hesitation, I pulled the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot echoed through the empty corridors, reverberating off the walls like a thunderclap. His body crumpled to the ground, a lifeless heap, his blood splattering across the concrete floor. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, mingling with the acrid scent of gunpowder. I could feel the warmth of his blood spattering against my skin, staining my clothes, drenching my face in a macabre mask. I must have looked like something out of a nightmare, a creature born from the depths of hell itself.

But in that moment, none of it mattered. Because I knew that when I found my little rose, when I finally held her in my arms again, she wouldn't care. She would see past the blood and the violence, past the darkness that threatened to consume us both. She would see me for what I truly was—her fucking salvation.

Time seemed to stop as Niccolò and Dante positioned themselves on either side of the door. This was it. The moment I would bring my girl home.

But then they pushed open the door and the world stopped spinning. We rushed into the room, guns drawn ready for whatever met us on the other side.

None of us expected to see what sat in the furthest corner of the room.

Beside a blood soaked mattress, a fraile body sat huddled against the filthy wall with something curled into her chest.

When her eyes flicked up, I felt the earth crumble beneath me. Whoever this woman was, she was not Rosaelia. But that's not what ripped into my soul. It was the look in her eyes. The one that told me everything I never wanted to hear.