CHAPTER 52: DRAGGED FROM THE WATER

Victor could see the madman leaning half out of the SUV window, a rocket launcher balanced on his shoulder.

The Giant’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Пиздец. That man has completely lost his mind."

He didn’t wait for Vincent to respond. In one sharp motion he opened the door on his side, grabbed Vincent by the collar, and pulled them both into the canal.

The impact of the water was brutal, cold biting through their clothes as a thunderous explosion shook the surface above.

Ripples of light flickered around them while the truck sank, dragging the water downward with a violent suction that swallowed everything nearby.

Vincent felt it immediately. His chest wound tore open again, pain blooming through his body as blood clouded the water around him.

The current twisted him, pulling him deeper. His arms moved weakly, his lungs burning for air.

Through the blur of bubbles and darkness, he could see Victor swimming upward, strong strokes cutting through the chaos.

For a moment he thought the man was leaving him behind.

’Of course,’ he thought bitterly,’ Victor hated rats.’

He was just another one in a long list of disposable people. It was almost funny how predictable it all was.

’They’re all the same, fucking mafias.’

He had always known it would end this way, sinking into the dark while someone else decided he wasn’t worth saving.

He let his body drift, the ache in his chest easing into a strange calm. Maybe dying would be easier than watching people walk away again.

But then, through the wavering light, a shadow moved against the current. Victor turned back.

His arm reached out, fingers wrapping tightly around Vincent’s wrist before the water could swallow him whole.

His expression was unreadable in the dim light, but the sharp furrow of his brows and the hard set of his mouth spoke volumes.

He didn’t shout. He couldn’t. Yet Vincent could almost hear the word forming on his lips, something that looked like мудак.

It was a curse, he knew, though he could almost imagine it sounding more like exasperation than hatred.

The warmth of Victor’s grip burned against the cold water, pulling him out of the depths.

Vincent now understood what it meant to have someone at your side who didn’t care about status. Relief washed through him harder than the cold.

They broke the surface with a desperate gasp. Water rushed down Vincent’s face as Victor dragged him toward the shadow beneath the bridge.

His body felt heavy, useless from exhaustion and lack of air.

The Giant held him upright with one arm while scanning the surroundings above the waterline, his dark eyes following the movements of Lucero’s men along the embankment.

"Do you have any secret passage to get us out of here?" Victor asked in a low voice.

Vincent coughed, forcing himself to speak. "This town has plenty of places to hide, but not many to escape. If they’ve already blocked the main routes, we’ll have to move quietly."

"So there’s no way out?"

Vincent bit his lip, thinking fast. "There’s one. Sabbia Bianca. It’s about five kilometers from here, near the coast."

"It’s a neutral zone between Lunox and Lucero. If we reach it, we can rest before heading to Pepe as it is close. No one would dare to start a fight there."

Victor turned to him, unimpressed. "That’s an assumption. From what I know, you’re always one step behind them. Lunox could already be moving to hand you over."

Vincent felt a spark of irritation rise in his throat. "Didn’t you say your boss is dealing with Lunox? That means Edmund is probably busy with Diablo too, so stop—"

His words died as Dante’s voice echoed through the canal, sharp and commanding.

"Search every passage, even underwater if you have to! Those cockroaches never die from one explosion!"

Vincent’s eyes darted to Victor. "The more you question my route, the closer they get," he whispered.

Victor’s expression didn’t change, though his eyes flicked once toward the sound of approaching footsteps above them.

"Fine. We’ll do it your way," he said quietly. "Just don’t mess it up."

Both of them slipped quietly along the canal’s edge, keeping low until they reached a narrow path that wound up toward the town’s market.

The noise of the crowd above covered their movement; laughter, the clatter of carts, and the murmur of vendors calling out their wares. Perfect cover.

They climbed up from the embankment, dripping and breathless, the smell of sea salt clinging to them.

Vincent quickly pointed toward a cluster of stalls where laundry hung between the houses.

Without a word, they ducked into the shadows and pulled down a pair of loose shirts and trousers from a drying line. The owners were nowhere in sight.

Vincent tossed one to Victor. "Put it on before someone calls the guards."

Victor gave him a look but said nothing, stripping off his soaked clothes without care.

His bare back, marked with old scars, gleamed briefly under the market lanterns before he pulled on the stolen shirt.

"Damn you are too big, it’s hard to steal that one." Vincent commented, with a bit of a jealous tone in it.

"Huh, even in seven lifetimes, you won’t be able to have this kind of build, little alpha." he smirked which made Vicent pissed off even more but decided not to say anything.

They blended into the flow of townsfolk just as Lucero’s men appeared from the far end of the street.

"Keep your head down," Vincent muttered. "They’ll search the canal first. If we move now—"

Victor’s hand shot up, signaling silence. His sharp gaze tracked movement beyond a row of carts.

A pair of Lucero’s men, rifles in hand, scanned the area, their boots echoing against the cobblestone.

He pulled Vincent behind a crumbling wall, pressing a finger to his lips. The two men passed within meters, unaware of the danger crouched beside them.

When the footsteps faded, Victor gave a slight nod, and they slipped out again into the crowded street only to freeze as Dante’s voice cut through the noise.

"There you are."

The crowd broke apart as Dante stepped forward, his gun already raised, his men fanning out around him.

Shoppers screamed, scattering in panic as bullets tore through the air. The market became chaos.

Victor shoved Vincent behind an overturned cart and returned fire. His movements were sharp, disciplined; every shot counted.

One of Dante’s men fell with a grunt, and another ducked for cover behind a fruit stand.

Vincent grabbed a fallen pistol and joined in, keeping his shots tight and controlled. "Left side!" he shouted when he saw one trying to flank them.

Victor turned instantly, firing two clean shots that dropped the attacker before he could pull the trigger.

When their guns clicked empty, Victor didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, grabbed a man by the collar, and slammed him into a stone wall so hard the impact cracked it.

His sheer size made him a terrifying sight, over two meters of raw muscle moving with brutal efficiency.

Another man swung a knife at him; Victor caught his wrist, twisted, and used the man’s momentum to hurl him into a pile of wooden crates. They shattered under the weight.

Vincent covered his back, kicking over a basket of fish to trip a gunman sneaking up behind him.

He fired once, hitting the man in the shoulder before ducking as glass shattered overhead.

Dante watched the scene unfold, fury tightening his jaw. "Useless idiots," he spat, raising his gun to aim directly at Victor.

But before he could pull the trigger, Victor hurled a discarded crate his way. It hit the gun, throwing off his aim, and the shot buried itself into a nearby stall instead.

Victor closed the distance in seconds. The two clashed in the center of the market, fists and elbows striking hard enough to echo over the chaos.

Dante was fast, vicious, but Victor fought like a storm—every blow heavy, every movement deliberate. He drove his knee into Dante’s ribs, then his fist across his jaw.

Dante stumbled back, blood on his lip, but his grin was defiant. "You think you can walk out of here alive?"

Victor’s eyes were cold, unreadable. "I don’t think," he said quietly. "I make sure."

He moved again, faster than before, dodging a knife swipe and slamming Dante to the ground.

Vincent covered him, firing at the last of Dante’s men until the square finally went silent except for the sound of the ocean wind and distant shouting.

Victor rose slowly, catching his breath. Vincent approached, gun still raised but trembling slightly from exhaustion.

"Looks like your plan worked," Victor said, voice rough.

Vincent smirked faintly. "Told you to trust me."

Victor gave him a sidelong look, half annoyed, half amused. "Next time, remind me to trust you before someone starts shooting."

Vincent just laughed quietly, tension breaking for a moment as the sound of sirens began to rise in the distance.