The Man is a Cacciatore

Episode 9

Leo

Our men had already stormed the McCalister mansion. They looked like an agitated ant nest—drones of men crawling out from every part of the estate while the masked soldiers of my mob gunned them down like special ops.

Ciro trained our Soldatos alongside Nico, my Capo, just as my father had trained us, and his father before him. We come from a long, blood-soaked lineage of fighters dating back to Roman soldiers. It’s not just in our blood—it is our blood. I wear that legacy like armor. It gives us our edge, our code, our ruthlessness. It’s why we dominate and why our enemies fall. We don’t just go to war—we are war. And it’s why my men moved like a damn symphony of destruction through this place, swift and clean, cutting down anyone in our path.

As soon as Nico, Ciro, Gio, and I jumped from the car, the stifling Chicago humidity of the evening seemed to mingle with the chaos erupting around us. Cocking our guns in sync, we held them close to our chests, barrels pointed skyward. We were ready for anything.

The three of them covered my back as I plowed through the crowd with one goal—to retrieve my little Topo. She had suffered enough at the hands of these bastards, and I’d never forgive myself for the unnecessary pain I’d brought into her life. Cassandra had started as an obsession, but she’d become something more—someone. Someone fate had shoved into my path, a chance to redeem myself from the black shit I’d done in my life. She was an angel—one the demons fed on but never protected.

Me? I was her Archangel, willing to fight through hell to bring her to safety.

POP! POP!

Nameless faces crumbled before me like deflating inflatable tub men. My shots were precise, ruthless, and fueled by fury. Nobody was stopping me from getting to her. My gun was hot in my hand, and I gripped it tighter the moment my tactical boots hit the marble floor.

I had only a few seconds to scan the area. That’s when I spotted a seriously wounded Irish member slumped against the wall near the staircase. I made purposeful steps toward him, grabbed his blood-stained shirt with my free hand, and yanked him closer to my face.

“Where is Cassandra?” I snarled, my eyes flicking between his darkening ones as death slowly pulled him under.

He coughed—blood splattered across my bulletproof vest. “Fuck you,” he rasped, his accent thick.

I shook him hard. “You’re already a dead man, motherfucker. Just tell me where she is.” His eyes rolled back, losing the fight. I gave him one more shake before tossing his limp body back against the wall. “Fuck!” I growled, my jaw clenched tight.

“She’s upstairs!” I heard Ciro call out from another room.

I didn’t hesitate. Charging up the stairs, I kicked in door after door until I found my principessa. I wouldn’t rest until she was in my arms, under my protection. Once she was safe, I’d never let her out of my sight. EVER. AGAIN.

The last door on the right.

I kicked it open and saw her—naked, bent over the bed, face smashed into the mattress. Declan’s cock was out, primed to thrust into her.

I roared.

Without hesitation, I pulled the trigger. Time slowed as the bullet tore into his neck, blood spurting in every direction. He clutched at the wound and fell to the floor, collapsing to the left of Cassandra’s limp body.

I stomped forward, gun aimed at his fucking head.

“As much as I wish I could torture you nice and slow, I’ll take solace in knowing your cock will never come near my little Topo again.” My voice was tight, cold, and full of deadly promise.

Declan tried to speak, only to gurgle and choke on the blood pooling in his throat. But I saw the defiance in his ice-blue eyes.

Still trying to win.

Sick of the sight of him, I pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through his eye and out the other side of his skull. His corpse collapsed into a bloody heap.

A slow smirk spread across my face. That was for her.

Then I turned.

Cassandra was still bent over the bed, unmoving.

My gut twisted into a knot. I moved fast, yanking a sheet from the dead asshole’s bed. Wrapping her up, I took her in—really took her in—and my stomach bottomed out. Her face was swollen, bruised, unrecognizable. Her body limp and broken, collarbone shattered, ribs clearly busted. She was unconscious, but alive. I felt her faint pulse under my fingers and nearly collapsed with the relief of it.

I scooped her up bridal style, holding her like glass, and carried her tenderly from the room.

Ciro was waiting in the hallway. His dark, murderous gaze softened when he saw her state.

“Let’s go,” I forced out. My voice scraped past my throat like it didn’t belong to me. My eyes flicked between her broken face and the hall ahead. The gunfire below was still going—but thinning out, like the last gasps of a war we’d already won.

When we hit the pavement outside, my grip on her tightened slightly. The closer we got to the bulletproof black SUV, the more anxious I became. I needed her safe. Needed her far from this nightmare.

Then—

Gunshots cracked behind us.

Pain exploded in my left side.

Fire bloomed where I was exposed, where Cassandra’s body had shifted the vest just enough to make me vulnerable. The impact stole my breath, but I didn’t fall. I wouldn’t. I held her tighter, refused to go down with her in my arms.

“Die, ye guido bastard!” Finnigan’s rough voice echoed behind me.

Ciro spun. He didn’t miss.

One shot. That was all he needed.

I didn’t even look. I knew Finnigan was dead. Ciro ran to my side, using his strength to help me carry Cassandra the rest of the way to the truck.

“Leo, want me to hold her?” he asked as we climbed in.

I hissed, the pain tearing through me now with every breath. I knew a vital organ had taken the hit. I could feel the warmth of blood soaking through my clothes, pulsing out of me like time running out.

“No!” I snapped.

Nico and Gio piled into the front seats.

“Drive the fucking car. NOW!” I barked, urgency snarling in my throat like an animal ready to tear its way free.

Cassandra

My vision was blurry as I blinked my eyes open slowly. My limbs felt heavy, and my hearing flickered in and out like a dying signal. A raspy groan slipped from my lips as I tried to move my arm, and the sharp prick of tubes and needles stopped me.

“Try not to move, Ms. Bennett,” a soft female voice came from my right.

I turned my head slowly, vision clearing just enough to make out a pale, freckled woman with strawberry blonde hair tied back into a tight bun. She looked middle-aged, calm, and efficient.

I must’ve looked confused because she added gently, “My name is Stacey. You’re at the Romano estate, being treated for some serious injuries.” Her warm smile crinkled the corners of her eyes, showing her age.

“How—” I coughed, my voice dry and rough, “How long have I been here?”

Stacey, who I assumed was a hired nurse, handed me a plastic cup of chilled water. I took it gratefully, swishing it around my mouth to fight off the desert that had taken residence in my throat.

“Four days now,” she said as she took the cup back and set it on the nightstand. She moved to check my IVs, and only then did I fully notice them. “We’re treating you for three broken ribs, a fractured collarbone, and two hairline fractures in your skull.” Her warm hands adjusted the straps on my immobilized arm. “You’ll need to take it easy. You’re on pain management, but your injuries were quite serious.”

“Stacey? Where is Leo?” I asked, scanning the bedroom I recognized as the one I’d been using before I was taken.

A familiar voice filled the doorway. “What, you don’t want to see me?”

My head whipped toward the door and I immediately hissed at the sharp pain that shot through my side.

“Easy,” Stacey scolded gently as she checked the bandages on my face.

“Ciro! Where’s Leo?” I asked urgently. Stacey helped me shift upright despite the pain. I couldn’t lay there like a corpse when asking about him—I needed to see him.

Ciro chuckled, but the sound was strained. He muttered something in Italian that I didn’t catch—my brain still foggy with meds and pain. “He’s… resting,” he said, voice low and somber. His gaze shifted down to the floor, avoiding mine.

My brows furrowed. “What does that mean?” Worry crawled up my spine and into my chest like barbed wire.

Ciro exhaled slowly and signaled for the nurse to give us a moment. He sat on the edge of the bed near my legs, placing a hand gently on my knee.

“Bella, you need to understand what happened that night we found you.”

His eyes found mine, serious and dark, and the unease in my gut started to curdle into something colder. “Our crew infiltrated d the McCalisters. Many of their men died. Only a few got away.” His thumb rubbed over the blanket in slow, grounding circles—it felt more for him than for me. “We kept our promise. Abigail and her daughters are alive. Declan and Finnigan are dead. Una benedizione,” he muttered under his breath.

A blessing, indeed. After what those bastards did to me, I hoped they were rotting in hell already.

“What about Leo?” I pushed.

Ciro nodded slowly. “On our way out, Finnigan…” He swallowed hard, and I already knew what he was going to say. “He shot Leo in the left side—hit his kidney and pancreas.”

My breath caught. My eyes widened, and I tried to sit up straighter. A spike of pain lanced through my ribs and I cried out softly.

“Cassandra, please. Be careful.” Ciro held out a hand to steady me. “Leo’s stable. He’s strong. But… he’s been unconscious for four days. Just like you.”

“I need to see him. Now!” I threw the blankets off my legs in a panic, heart pounding.

Ciro grabbed me gently but firmly. “Hey! No, you don’t. You’re in no condition to be walking around.”

“Then carry me, Ciro,” I demanded. My voice was steel, even as my eyes stung with fresh tears. If Leo was seriously hurt after saving me, I had to see him. I needed to see him.

I’d grown to care for Leo more than I ever expected. He wasn’t just some mafia asshole. He protected me. Saw me. Respected what I wanted. I trusted him with my life—and I knew he’d never hurt me. He’d proven that over and over again, especially when I pushed him past his limits.

Tears welled in my eyes. “Please, Ciro.”

He looked at me, and to my surprise, empathy flashed across his face—something I never thought Ciro was capable of. The man was a certified psycho on most days. But not today.

“Stacey, come in here, please,” Ciro called out, eyes never leaving mine.

The nurse rushed in, her brows furrowed as she scanned me, trying to assess the situation.

“Yes, sir?”

“Can you help me move Cassandra to Leo’s room? She’ll continue treatment at his side.” His tone left no room for argument.

Stacey hesitated, worry flickering in her expression as she took in my fragile state, but she didn’t protest.

“I’ll get a wheelchair and up her pain medication. It should be enough without causing more injury.” She disappeared to prep for the move.

When Ciro, two nurses, and the on-site doctor settled the two of us onto Leo’s massive bed, I broke.

Ugly tears.

Leo had a breathing mask over his face, shirtless with clean bandages wrapped around his torso. He looked peaceful, but helpless. I hated it. Hated seeing him like this.

The room was dimly lit, the soft amber glow of a bedside lamp casting long shadows across the floor. A portable heart monitor beeped steadily near the window, its wires trailing toward the head of the bed like lifelines. The faint antiseptic scent in the air mixed with the deeper, familiar trace of Leo—cologne, leather, and warmth. Everything felt still. Waiting.

“Mr. Romano has shown signs of improvement,” the doctor reassured gently.

“Any update today, Dr. Harris?” Ciro asked, arms crossed as he scanned his cousin from head to toe.

Dr. Harris moved to the monitor, eyes flicking between the numbers. “Vitals are stable. The infection we were worried about is already responding to the steroid treatment.” He pulled a clipboard from the nightstand, scanning it before making a few quick notes. “I’m hopeful he’ll wake in the next week or so.”

“A week?” I hiccupped through my tears, scooting closer despite the IVs tethering both of us. I placed a trembling hand on his warm chest, needing to feel the steady thump of his heart.

Dr. Harris looked at me kindly, though his voice stayed professional. “Yes, Ms. Bennett. Mr. Romano suffered significant blood loss, and after emergency surgery, he developed an infection we had to get under control. His body needs time—he needs rest.”

I nodded slowly, unable to take my eyes off Leo’s pale but still-handsome face. That scar I noticed the first time we met was barely visible now, washed out by his sickly skin tone. Seeing him like this ignited something inside me—a protective flame that burned deep in my chest.

Leaning forward despite my own pain, I pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Thank you. For everything, Doctor,” I whispered as I brushed a few strands of hair away from Leo’s brow. My eyes were rimmed red, but filled with nothing but admiration.

Dr. Harris nodded. “Of course. It’s our job.” And with that, he exited the room, leaving Ciro and me alone with Leo.

I stayed close, interlacing my fingers with Leo’s free hand—careful not to pull on any of the IVs.

Ciro’s voice was quiet when he finally spoke. “Do you love him, bella?”

I looked over at him, my gaze softening as I met his steel-gray eyes.

“You’ll know when I tell him first.” I smiled, giving him a knowing look before bringing my attention back to Leo’s face.

I loved him. I knew I loved him the day he kissed me and I wandered these halls, lost and reeling. But if I’m going to admit it out loud, it won’t be to Ciro.

It’ll be to Leo.

Leo

The scent of alcohol, vanilla, and roses hit my senses as my vision began to clear. Female voices stirred around me like a flock of birds. One voice in particular perked my ears. I rolled my head to the left and caught a glimpse of a waterfall of black hair and emerald green eyes.

“Principessa?” My voice came out hoarse, unrecognizable. I reached for her, but hands stopped me from the other side.

“Mr. Romano, please don’t move. You’ll rip out your IVs,” a soothing female voice said from somewhere to my right.

I didn’t care. My focus was only on her.

The emerald eyes leaned in, her breath warm against my cheek. “You better be a good boy, Leo,” she whispered, teasing.

My heart immediately took off, and the monitor next to the bed confirmed it with a rapid series of beeps.

“Principessa, if you don’t want me getting a hard-on, you better stop.” My voice was low, raspy, and dry.

Her sultry chuckle didn’t help. A cough from the foot of my bed caught my attention, and instinctively, I turned toward it with a possessive edge.

My gaze landed on a man in a white lab coat—a doctor. The tension in my jaw eased.

“Mr. Romano,” he started, quickly averting his eyes. “I’m pleased to see you’re awake and… well.” He cleared his throat and looked down at a clipboard.

“How many days has it been?” I asked. A nurse moved quickly to hand me a cup of water. I sat up enough to down it in one go. She refilled it, but I waved her off, already shifting slowly. Cassandra assisted me, despite the pain I could see flicker across her face.

The room was dim but warm, golden light filtering in through partially drawn curtains. A beeping monitor pulsed rhythmically beside me. The faint scent of antiseptic lingered beneath Cassandra’s perfume. Soft rustling of sheets and muffled voices in the hallway added to the quiet hum of recovery.

When I looked at her again, I finally saw her. Faint bruising surrounded both eyes, her lip was busted, and one cheek still looked tender. Deep purple marks trailed beneath the strap of a black spaghetti tank top, disappearing beneath the sling on her arm. Her collarbone was visibly swollen. And yet, that top still clung to her curves, doing little to hide the way her body made mine react.

My dick twitched. I casually moved a hand to cover myself.

“A week and a half, sir,” the doctor said. He stepped closer to check the vitals on the monitor. “You should calm yourself. You don’t want to stress your body unnecessarily.”

I chuckled, darkening gaze flicking to Cassandra’s mischievous eyes. “That’s a little difficult, Doctor.”

She leaned forward, wincing slightly. Her breath ghosted my ear. “Should I leave?” she teased, nipping at the edge.

Dio mio, this woman. What has gotten into her?

“Settle down, girl.” Ciro’s voice cut through the haze like a damn thunderclap.

I flicked my gaze to him and smirked.

“Shut up, Ciro. I’m just making sure he doesn’t fall back to sleep,” she replied playfully.

Ciro and I both laughed, the sound echoing through the room like the first breath after a storm.

“I’ll leave you three alone,” the doctor said dryly, “but do try to remain calm.” He gave me a pointed look. “No strenuous activity.” His eyes flicked toward Cassandra in warning.

She raised her hands in surrender. “Scout’s honor,” she joked.

Once the doctor left, Ciro stepped to the bedside.

“I’m assuming she gave you a boner,” he said, arching a brow and gesturing with his chin to the hand still covering my crotch.

“Not quite,” I laughed. “But it was a hell of a way to wake up.”

Cassandra’s expression softened. Her eyes misted, her voice cracked. “I’m so grateful you’re awake.”

I hadn’t realized she’d inched closer, but she had. I reached my IV-clad arm to her face, brushing my thumb gently over her bruised skin. The warmth of her body grounded me.

“Mia Bellezza, we have unfinished business.” I smirked. “I’m not leaving until I collect.”

She gave me a pointed look. “I’m over here being romantic, and here you are being a pervert.” Her lips twitched, betraying her tone, the bravado crumbling into a smile.

“Says the woman whispering in my ear to be a good boy,” I murmured. My gaze dropped to her lips before meeting her eyes again.

“She hasn’t left your side since she woke up—about eight days ago,” Ciro added, taking a seat at the end of the bed. “Glad you’re back. Doing your job has been a pain in my fucking ass.”

My hand fell from Cassandra’s cheek, and I looked at him. I laughed, catching the truth beneath his words.

He was worried. He just wouldn’t say it.

Ciro’s been by my side since we were five. Chosen family. Ride or die until the end.

“Glad you understand what a pain in the ass managing you and all these other assholes is like,” I shot back, eyes glittering with appreciation.

He slapped my leg, firm and familiar. “You’ll get my bill.”

Then his tone shifted. He glanced between me and Cassandra, nodding. “I should get back to work.” Stepping closer, he placed both hands on either side of my head and pressed his forehead to mine—a silent, loving gesture only family would understand.

“I’ll come check on you later.”

I dipped my chin, waiting for the door to close behind him before turning back to her.

“Cassandra.” My voice softened. “I…” I paused, words catching in my throat. I’d been meaning to say it for months.

“I love you, Leonardo Romano,” she said, cutting through my hesitation like a knife through silk.

My eyes widened, then softened. A laugh slipped from my chest, low and easy. “Stole the words right from my mouth, principessa.”

She interlaced her fingers with mine. “I love you too, Cassandra. You are everything to me. My angel. My Topo. My Principessa.”

Despite the pain that lived in our bones, we leaned toward each other slowly and carefully. The moment our lips met, the pain faded. The room, the machines, the sounds around us—they all disappeared.

It was only me and her.

A new beginning, ignited with a confession—and sealed with a kiss.