Rio managed three days of pretending everything was normal.
Three days of working jobs with Avilio, who was too focused on the mission to notice Rio's distraction. Three days of avoiding Corteo's knowing, worried looks. Three days of fragments screaming warnings he ignored.
Three days before the Orco family made their move.
The call came at two in the morning. Ganzo's voice sharp with urgency.
"Get to the docks. Now. All hands. The Orcos are hitting us hard."
Rio was dressed and armed in under two minutes. Avilio was already at the door, checking his weapons with cold efficiency.
"War's here," Avilio said. No emotion. Just tactical assessment.
Corteo emerged from his room, pale. "Be careful. Please."
They didn't answer. Just left.
---
The docks were chaos.
Gunfire lit the darkness. Bodies already down. Vanetti soldiers taking cover behind shipping containers, returning fire against Orco positions.
Rio's fragments took over instantly. Combat mode engaged. Tactical assessment automatic.
Eight Orco soldiers visible. Probably more in reserve. Three Vanetti soldiers down. Two wounded. Defensive position collapsing. Need to flank.
"Rio! Avilio!" Ganzo waved them over. Blood on his face from a graze wound. "About damn time. We're pinned down. They came from three directions at once. Professional hit."
"Where's Nero?" Rio asked before he could stop himself.
"North side with Vanno. Holding the warehouse. They're cut off." Ganzo pointed. "We need to break through. Get them out."
Rio moved before thinking. Fragments guiding him through cover positions, approach angles, optimal firing lines.
Avilio followed. "You're being reckless."
"Nero's trapped."
"So are other soldiers. Why does he matter more?"
Because he did. Because Rio had fallen for him. Because the thought of Nero dying made something in Rio's chest seize with panic.
But he didn't say that. Just moved faster.
They flanked the Orco position. Caught three soldiers focused on the warehouse. Rio dropped two before they knew he was there. Avilio took the third.
Efficient. Professional. The kind of combat that came from lifetimes of violent death.
They pushed through to the warehouse. Found Nero and Vanno behind overturned crates, both bleeding from minor wounds, both still fighting.
"Rio!" Vanno's relief was immediate. "Thank god. We're almost out of ammunition."
Nero's eyes met Rio's. Something passed between them—relief, fear, connection. The kind of look that meant too much.
"We need to move," Rio said, forcing focus. "This position's compromised. Fall back to the main warehouse. Regroup."
"What about our people?" Nero asked.
"Ganzo's coordinating. We get you out first. You're the heir. You die, everything falls apart."
"I'm not leaving my men—"
"You're not. We're regrouping. There's a difference." Rio checked his ammunition. "Vanno, you're with me. Avilio takes point. Nero, you're in the middle. Move when I say."
They moved as a unit. Rio's fragments supplied the path—fastest route with best cover. They took fire. Rio returned it. Dropped another Orco soldier who got too close.
They made it to the main warehouse. Found a dozen Vanetti soldiers consolidating position. Wounded being treated. Dead being counted.
The cost was already high.
"Report," Nero said, immediately back in command mode despite the blood on his shirt.
"Six dead. Nine wounded. Three critical." Ganzo was grim. "The Orcos hit four locations simultaneously. Coordinated attack. They're done with territory disputes. This is full war."
"Where's Don Vanetti?"
"Safe at the mansion. Heavy guard. They didn't hit there—too fortified." Ganzo gestured at the chaos. "But they hit everywhere else. Docks, warehouses, two speakeasies. They're trying to cripple our operations."
"How many Orcos?"
"At least thirty. Maybe more." Ganzo met Nero's eyes. "This isn't opportunistic raiding. This is organized warfare. Someone planned this carefully."
Rio's fragments supplied tactical analysis: Coordinated strikes require intelligence. They knew when guards would be minimal. Knew exact locations. Someone fed them information.
"We have a leak," Rio said.
Everyone looked at him.
"What?" Nero asked.
"This level of coordination requires inside information. They knew where to hit. When to hit. How many guards to expect." Rio's voice was certain. "Someone inside the Vanetti organization is feeding the Orcos intelligence."
Ganzo swore. "That's a serious accusation."
"It's the only explanation that makes sense."
"Who?" Nero's voice was hard. Dangerous. "Who would betray the family?"
Rio didn't have an answer. But fragments whispered possibilities: Frate. The ambitious second son. The one with reasons to want chaos. The one who's been suspicious of everyone.
But he couldn't say that without evidence.
"I don't know," Rio said. "But we need to find out. Fast. Before they hit us again."
The debate was cut short by renewed gunfire. The Orcos were pushing their position.
"Everyone who can fight, with me!" Nero commanded. Despite being wounded. Despite the danger. He was leading from the front. Always.
Rio moved to stop him. "You should coordinate from here—"
"My men are dying. I'm not hiding while they fight." Nero's eyes were steel. "You don't have to come."
"Like hell I don't."
They moved out together. Rio, Avilio, Nero, Vanno, Ganzo, eight other soldiers. Pushing back against the Orco assault.
The fighting was brutal. Close quarters. No room for precision. Just survival and violence.
Rio's fragments guided every move. Duck. Fire. Roll. Reload. Move. His body knew this. Had done this countless times across lifetimes. Death and combat were familiar territories.
But this time was different.
Because every time he looked at Nero fighting beside him, Rio felt fear. Real fear. Not for himself—he'd die and come back. But for Nero, who wouldn't.
Don't be stupid, the fragments warned. Caring makes you vulnerable. Makes you sloppy. Focus on survival.
But Rio couldn't stop watching Nero's back. Couldn't stop positioning himself between threats and the man he—
The man he cared about.
Vanno went down.
Not dead. Shot in the leg. Screaming. Exposed.
Nero moved toward him without hesitation. Rio saw the Orco soldier lining up the shot. Saw it happening before it happened.
Rio moved faster.
Threw himself between Nero and the bullet.
The impact was massive. Shoulder. Spinning him around. Pain exploding through his system.
But the fragments had experienced worse. Much worse. Death was worse. This was just pain.
Rio fired back. Dropped the Orco soldier. Then another who appeared behind him.
"Rio!" Nero was there. Hands on him. "You're hit—"
"I'm fine. Get Vanno."
"You took a bullet for me—"
"Get. Vanno."
Nero grabbed Vanno. Started dragging him back toward cover. Rio provided covering fire despite his shoulder screaming protest. Avilio appeared. Helped with suppression.
They made it to cover. Vanno was stabilized. Rio's wound was bleeding but manageable. The fragments reminded him: You've survived worse. You'll heal. Pain is temporary.
But Nero's expression—fear, gratitude, something deeper—that made the pain worthwhile.
"You're insane," Nero said, already wrapping Rio's shoulder with field dressing. "Taking a bullet like that."
"You were exposed."
"So were you!"
"I heal fast." True, actually. The fragments ensured perfect health. Even bullet wounds healed faster than they should. "You're more important."
"That's not—" Nero stopped. His hands were shaking. "Don't do that again. Please."
"Can't promise that."
"Rio—"
"Later. Right now we need to finish this."
The battle raged for another hour. Eventually, the Orcos retreated. They'd inflicted damage. Made their point. But the Vanetti family still held their territory.
Barely.
When dawn broke over Lawless, the cost was clear. Eleven Vanetti soldiers dead. Fifteen wounded. Operations crippled. A clear message sent.
The Orco family wanted war.
They were going to get it.
---
Back at the mansion, Don Vanetti was coldly furious.
The family gathered in the main room. Nero, Ganzo, key soldiers. Rio and Avilio present as newly proven associates.
And Frate. Standing in the corner. Watching everyone with calculating eyes.
"This was coordinated," the don said. His voice was controlled. Deadly. "Someone helped them. Someone gave them information."
"We'll find the leak," Ganzo promised.
"You'll find them and make an example." The don's eyes swept the room. "This family doesn't tolerate traitors. Whoever did this dies slowly. Understood?"
Everyone nodded.
Rio watched Frate's reaction. Nothing. No tells. Either innocent or very, very good at hiding guilt.
"In the meantime," the don continued, "we prepare for war. Full war. The Orcos want to destroy us. We destroy them first. Nero, you coordinate defense. Ganzo, you handle offense. I want Orco operations hit hard and fast. Show them what happens when they come at the Vanetti family."
"Yes, sir," they chorused.
"One more thing." The don's attention settled on Rio. "You took a bullet for my son tonight."
Rio met his eyes. "He was exposed. I was closer."
"You also killed four Orco soldiers. Showed combat skills that continue to raise questions." The don studied him. "Where did you really learn to fight, Ceriano?"
The room went quiet. Everyone watching.
Rio held the don's gaze. Didn't flinch. The fragments supplied the answer: Partial truth. Give him something real without revealing everything.
"I don't have a good answer," Rio said honestly. "I've been in situations where I had to fight or die. Each time, something in me just... knows what to do. Muscle memory without memory. Instinct without training. I can't explain it better than that."
"That's not an explanation."
"It's the only one I have."
The don was quiet for a long moment. Then: "You saved my son's life. That buys you trust. Temporary trust. But I'm watching. Everyone's watching. No more mysteries, Ceriano. We're at war. I need to know everyone in this room is loyal."
"Understood."
"Go. Get that shoulder treated properly. Cerotto's expecting you."
Dismissed.
---
Cerotto's clinic was a small operation in neutral territory. The doctor who patched up both families without asking questions or taking sides.
He looked at Rio's shoulder. Shook his head. "Bullet went through clean. You're lucky."
"I'm always lucky."
"That's not luck. That's..." Cerotto paused. "This should be worse. The trajectory, the impact. You should have bone damage. Nerve damage. But it's just flesh. Like your body knows how to minimize harm."
Rio didn't respond. The fragments had opinions but no explanations.
Corteo was waiting when they returned to the brewery. Took one look at Rio's bandaged shoulder and went pale.
"What happened?"
"Orco attack. Coordinated. Multiple locations." Rio sat heavily. Exhaustion finally catching up. "It's war now. Real war."
"Are you okay?"
"I'll heal."
"That's not what I asked." Corteo's voice was soft. "Rio. Are you okay?"
Honest answer? No. Rio had taken a bullet for Nero without thinking. Had prioritized one man's life over tactical advantage. Had made emotional decisions in combat that could have gotten everyone killed.
He was compromised. Completely.
And he couldn't bring himself to care.
"I don't know," Rio said quietly.
Avilio emerged from his room. Looked between them. "What's wrong?"
"Rio took a bullet for Nero," Corteo said.
Avilio's expression went cold. "Why?"
"He was exposed. I was closer."
"That's not an answer. There were six other soldiers. Any of them could have moved. You chose to." Avilio crossed his arms. "You're protecting him specifically. Not the mission. Him."
"I was doing my job—"
"Your job is infiltration. Not dying for the target." Avilio's voice was ice. "You're compromised. Emotionally compromised. And it's going to get us all killed."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're falling apart." Avilio moved closer. "What happened three days ago? You've been different since then. Distracted. Sloppy."
Rio didn't answer.
Corteo did. Quietly. Miserably. "He slept with Nero."
Silence.
Avilio stared at him. "You did what?"
"It's complicated—"
"It's mission failure!" Avilio's control finally cracked. Anger breaking through the ice. "Do you understand what you've done? You've compromised everything. The entire operation. My revenge. Our purpose. All of it. Because you couldn't keep your feelings in check!"
"I know—"
"Do you? Do you really?" Avilio's voice was shaking. Rare emotion. "They killed my family, Rio. Our family. Your family too, even if you don't remember it clearly. And you're—what? Falling in love with the heir? Protecting him? Dying for him?"
"I'm not—"
"You are. I can see it. Everyone can see it." Avilio's voice dropped. Dangerous. "Choose. Right now. The mission or him. Revenge or whatever this is. You can't have both."
Rio wanted to argue. Wanted to say he could balance it. Could maintain the mission while protecting Nero. Could destroy the family while saving one person from the wreckage.
But the fragments whispered the truth: You can't. No one can. Love and betrayal can't coexist. Choose.
"I choose the mission," Rio said.
Lie. Complete lie. And everyone in the room knew it.
"Then prove it," Avilio said coldly. "When the time comes. When we execute our plan. When Nero has to die for this to work. Prove you'll do it."
"I will."
Another lie.
Avilio stared at him. Then turned away. "You've destroyed everything. You know that? Our entire plan. Ruined because you couldn't stay detached."
"Angelo—"
"Don't call me that." Avilio's voice was venomous. "Angelo died seven years ago. I'm Avilio. I'm the mission. I'm the revenge. And you—you're just Rio Ceriano. Someone who cares more about temporary connection than justice for the dead."
He left. Slammed the door to his room.
Corteo looked at Rio with something like pity. "He's right, you know. About all of it."
"I know."
"Then what are you going to do?"
"I don't know."
"You're going to have to choose eventually. The mission will force it. Nero's going to have to die for this revenge plot to work. Can you do that? Can you help kill the man you're in love with?"
"I'm not in love—"
"Don't lie to me. I've known you too long." Corteo's voice broke. "I'm watching you destroy yourself. And I can't stop it. None of us can. You're going to have to make the choice yourself."
"What if I can't?"
"Then we all die. And it'll be your fault."
Corteo left too. Went back to his equipment. His safe space where chemistry made sense and emotions didn't complicate everything.
Rio sat alone in the dark.
His shoulder throbbed. His body ached. But worse was the weight in his chest.
He'd compromised the mission. Betrayed Angelo's trust. Chosen connection over revenge. Fallen for the target.
And he'd do it all again.
That was the terrifying part.
The fragments offered no solutions. Just the certainty that this path led to destruction. That caring was a fatal weakness. That he was going to get everyone killed.
Including himself.
Including Nero.
Rio stared at nothing. Felt the weight of impossible choices pressing down.
War had come to Lawless.
But the real war was inside him.
And he was losing.