CHAPTER 47: ROAD TO CANELO CERO

Victor did not wait to think. The moment the door opened, his gun went off, and the deafening sound filled the truck until Vincent’s ears rang.

Lucero’s men were quick to respond; bullets slammed into the walls, sparks flying from metal as the two of them dove for cover.

Victor crouched behind a stack of crates and returned fire with sharp precision, his movements efficient, almost mechanical.

The confined space turned the air heavy with smoke and the smell of gunpowder, and each gunshot felt like it shook the ground beneath them.

"Victor, there are about five left!"

Vincent called, forcing his way out of the crate he had been hiding in.

"Then stop talking and shoot," Victor barked.

He swung his leg forward and kicked one of the heavy boxes. It toppled and crashed against the floor, scattering their attackers for a brief moment.

The noise was enough to break their rhythm, and both men seized the chance.

Their bullets tore through the haze until silence fell again, leaving only the echo of gunfire and their uneven breathing.

Vincent pressed a hand against his chest, feeling his pulse thundering as he stared at Victor’s back through the drifting smoke.

A sudden noise outside made him turn. He saw Ale sprinting across the road, his steps clumsy, desperate.

Victor followed his gaze, and his expression hardened.

"That bastard," he muttered before raising his gun.

The shot cracked again, and Ale fell forward with a scream, clutching his leg.

"I’m sorry! I needed the money! They said they’d kill me if I didn’t pay today!"

Ale’s voice trembled as he rolled onto his back, eyes wide with terror.

"I told you not to gamble again," Victor said flatly, walking toward him without hesitation.

"No, wait! We’re comrades, aren’t we? Just one more chance, please!"

The plea barely left his lips before the next gunshot silenced him.

Victor lowered his weapon, his tone steady as he muttered, "Comrades don’t betray each other. I hate rats."

Vincent stood there for a moment, staring at Ale’s body sprawled across the dirt. The blood spread slowly, soaking into the gravel until it formed a dark pool.

Victor’s words lingered in his head, heavy and unspoken, like a warning meant for him.

He swallowed, forcing his thoughts away, and climbed back into the truck.

"Let’s move before more show up," he said quietly.

Victor gave a single nod and started the engine. The truck rumbled forward through the broken road, carrying two men bound not by trust, but by the simple will to survive.

The truck roared through the narrow road, tires kicking up dirt as Vincent gripped the dashboard.

The city’s outer edge was a blur of rusted warehouses and flickering street lamps, every turn shaking the chassis like it would fall apart any second.

Victor’s face was a hard mask, both hands tight on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched enough to crack teeth when he looked in the side view mirror, realizing they were followed.

"They found us too fast," Vincent muttered.

Headlights—three, no, four of them—cut through the road, growing larger by the second.

Victor spat out a curse. "Lucero’s men. Tcy you really pissed them off, didn’t you?"

Vincent just rolled his eyes and said, "Drive faster if you don’t want us to die instead of grumbling."

Heavy engines thundered behind them, black SUVs barreling forward like a pack of wolves. The sound alone was enough to make the truck rattle.

Vincent reached for the rifle beside him, checked the chamber, and rolled the window down.

The air rushed in, hot and sharp, stinging his face.

"They’ll try to corner us before the bridge," Vincent said.

"Not if I can crush them first," Victor replied.

He yanked the wheel to the right, the truck swerving dangerously close to the guardrail.

One of the SUVs tried to overtake them, but Victor slammed the side of the truck into it.

The collision sent sparks flying, metal grinding against metal until the SUV lost balance and crashed against the barrier.

"Nice one!" Vincent shouted, aiming out the window.

He fired twice, and another car slowed as glass shattered across its hood.

But the others didn’t stop. They pushed harder, closing the gap.

A voice suddenly echoed through the night, deep and distorted through a megaphone.

"Stop the damn truck!"

Vincent froze for a second. That voice, he knew it.

"Dante," he hissed.

Victor gave him a sidelong look. "That Dante? The son of the Lioness?"

"The same Dante who burned three people alive because they took his cut," Vincent replied grimly. "Damn, the entire De Luca family is full of madness."

The megaphone crackled again. "Vincent! You piece of shit! You think you can crawl out of Lucero’s hand? Stop running, and I’ll make it quick!"

Victor’s knuckles went white. "Friendly guy."

Vincent leaned out the window again, raising his voice over the engine. "Go fuck yourself, Dante! I will survive and I will destroy the whole Lucero!"

Dante’s laugh carried through the air, dark and amused. "You think you can do that? I’m gonna send your head to the Basilisk before you can even leave Cisili!"

The next second, gunfire erupted. Bullets slammed into the truck’s side, breaking mirrors and denting the metal.

Vincent ducked down as a bullet grazed his arm, a sharp sting leaving warmth down his sleeve.

"Hold on!" Victor shouted.

He jerked the wheel and took a sharp turn toward the industrial ring’s exit. The truck burst through a chain gate, sparks flying as it broke apart behind them.

They sped through the road, the engine screaming like it would tear itself apart.

"Take the left tunnel, that’ll lead to Canale Cero!" Vincent yelled, checking the map spread across his knee.

Victor nodded once and followed his direction. The tunnel ahead was dark, the air thick with dust and the faint scent of oil.

They shot through it, their headlights barely cutting the black.

Behind them, the roar of engines followed.

"They’re still on us," Victor said, voice rough with exhaustion.

"Of course they are," Vincent muttered. "Dante’s too damn stubborn to quit."

When they finally burst out of the tunnel, the landscape changed. The neon haze of Canale Cero glowed in the distance, old buildings mixed with market stalls and narrow alleys.

A small district that looked almost peaceful from afar, but Vincent knew better. The streets twisted like a maze, perfect for losing enemies if they played it right.

"Head through the main lane and cut toward the canals," Vincent said quickly.

"We can lose them near the warehouses."

Victor didn’t answer, just kept his eyes ahead. The truck roared past street vendors who scattered in panic as the gunfire followed again.

Sparks trailed behind them, bullets punching holes through the truck’s side.

Then Dante’s voice came again through the megaphone, closer this time, louder, angry.

"Stop the truck or I’ll light up the whole district! You hear me, Vincent? You’re not getting away again!"

Vincent grit his teeth. "He’s bluffing."

"Doesn’t sound like it," Victor said, nodding toward the rearview mirror.

A flash of orange bloomed behind them. One of the SUVs had launched a grenade.

It hit a street corner, erupting in flame and scattering debris across the road.

The explosion rocked the truck, forcing Victor to slam the brakes for a second to regain control. The tires screeched, smoke curling up from the rubber.

"He’s insane!" Vincent shouted. "He’ll burn the whole city just to get us!"

"Fuck! It seemed like all the De Luca family had anger issues." Victor replied.

The road narrowed as they entered the district’s inner street. Market stalls toppled, and frightened civilians ran for cover.

Dante’s vehicles pushed through the wreckage, relentless.

The megaphone blared once more, his voice booming like thunder. "End of the road, Vincent! Give up before I turn Canale Cero into ash!"

Vincent glared out the window, breathing hard. "Try me, bastard!" he shouted, then turned to Victor.

"We can’t outrun him forever. Take the next right, through the canal road."

Victor nodded, his grip tight on the wheel. The truck swerved again, almost tipping over as they slid into a narrow passage.

Water sprayed up from the edge of the canal as they sped along its bank.

Dante’s headlights followed, still too close. His laughter echoed through the megaphone one last time, sharp and mocking.

"You think you’re safe inside that junk forever? Let’s see how far you get before the tide takes you."

Dante fell silent for a moment, then leaned halfway out the car window, wind whipping through his hair.

In his hands gleamed a rocket launcher, its tip glinting under the streetlights.

He laughed maniacally, voice echoing through the narrow streets. "I’m gonna destroy you!"

"WHAT THE FUC—"

The rocket fired, cutting through the wind before slamming into the truck.

The explosion tore the air apart, flipping the vehicle like paper as fire swallowed its frame.

Dante watched the chaos unfold, a crooked smirk curling on his lips.

Honestly, he hated doing this kind of thing—too messy, too loud, too many civilians screaming—but damn, it was fun.

"Blood is indeed thicker than water." he murmured.