The explosion of gunfire echoed in Giovanni's ears, and for a split second, everything seemed to slow down. His mind raced, but his body was frozen. The man who had fired the shot stood in the doorway, his hand still gripping the smoking gun. Alessandro was crumpled on the ground, a pool of dark blood quickly spreading around him.

"Alessandro!" Giovanni screamed, rushing to his brother's side. He knelt beside him, pressing his hands against the wound to stem the bleeding. His heart raced, every instinct in him screaming to get his brother to safety.

Alessandro's breath was shallow, his skin pale and slick with sweat. His eyes were half-lidded, a dazed expression clouding his face.

"We need to get him out of here," Sandro growled, pulling his gun from his holster as he scanned the room for any more threats. "Now!"

Giovanni's hands trembled as he tried to stem the bleeding, his brother's life slipping away with each passing second. "Hold on, Alessandro. Just hold on. You can't leave me now."

Alessandro's lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, a faint, broken smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I... I'm sorry, Giovanni," he whispered, his voice weak. "I... couldn't stop them."

"Stop talking," Giovanni snapped, his voice raw with panic. "Don't apologize. Just stay with me."

Sandro had already made a call, and moments later, the sound of sirens pierced the night air. Paramedics rushed into the warehouse, quickly assessing Alessandro's condition. They worked swiftly, transferring him to a stretcher and moving him out of the building, the De Luca brothers following in hot pursuit.

Alessia's Struggle

Back in the small, dimly-lit apartment, Alessia sat on the edge of the couch, her body curled into itself, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Her heart was heavy with the weight of everything that had happened—the kidnapping, the trauma, the years of silence, and now the violent attack on her brothers.

Her mind was in chaos, a whirlwind of emotion she couldn't control. She had tried to keep moving forward, to find some semblance of peace, but the guilt, the confusion, and the fear were eating her alive. What had she done to deserve all of this? She didn't even know who she was anymore.

She thought of Alessandro, of his injury, and her stomach churned. She should have been there. She should have been with them, helping, fighting. But instead, she had been trapped, alone, lost in her own suffering.

The door to her apartment creaked open, but Alessia didn't move. She didn't know what was happening anymore. She didn't know how much longer she could bear the weight of it all.

Her brothers hadn't checked in on her. They were too consumed with Alessandro's condition, and rightfully so. He was their flesh and blood, their protector. But Alessia was no longer sure she had a place in their world.

The isolation she had once feared so deeply now felt like a suffocating embrace. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. The pain inside her was a constant, nagging ache—an ache that she no longer knew how to numb. The therapy sessions, the attempts to be strong, the tentative friendships all felt futile.

With trembling hands, Alessia reached into her drawer and pulled out the small bottle she had hidden away. She had been tempted countless times before, but today felt different. Her mind was clouded with an overwhelming desire to escape, to forget the pain, even if it was only for a moment. The small, unmarked pills in the bottle called to her like a siren's song.

Without a second thought, Alessia swallowed the pills, one after another. The numbness was immediate, an aching peace that washed over her as the world blurred. For a few brief moments, Alessia was free.

The Hospital

Giovanni, Sandro, and the paramedics rushed Alessandro to the hospital, but despite their best efforts, the damage was too severe. Alessandro slipped into a coma, his body unresponsive to the doctors' attempts to stabilize him.

The sterile white walls of the hospital were suffocating. Giovanni stood at the door of the ICU, his face drawn and pale. His fists clenched at his sides, the weight of his brother's condition pressing down on him like a thousand-pound weight.

"How is he?" Giovanni asked, his voice rough as he turned to the doctor who had been working tirelessly to save Alessandro.

The doctor looked grim. "We're doing everything we can. His vitals are unstable. We'll need to wait and see, but it's too early to tell how this will play out."

Giovanni felt his heart twist. He couldn't lose another brother. Not Alessandro, not like this. The thought was unbearable.

He stepped into the sterile room, his eyes falling on his brother's unconscious form. The sight of Alessandro lying motionless, connected to tubes and machines, hit Giovanni like a punch to the gut. His emotions swirled—rage, helplessness, guilt—until they overwhelmed him entirely.

"We should've never gotten her involved," Giovanni muttered, his voice low. He had failed them. He had failed Alessia, and now, Alessandro was paying the price.

Alessia's Breakdown

Back at the apartment, Alessia's world continued to fade. The drug-induced haze provided her with the peace she so desperately craved, but it was fleeting, slipping away as quickly as it had come. The pain surged back, sharper than before, and the loneliness crept in like a disease, gnawing at her insides.

She stumbled into the bathroom, her vision blurry. Her mind wasn't her own, but in a moment of clarity, she saw herself in the mirror—her pale face, her empty eyes staring back at her as if the reflection didn't even belong to her anymore. She felt like a stranger in her own body, a shell of who she had once been.

Her hands trembled as she reached for the remaining pills. She didn't know how many she had taken, but it didn't matter. The numbness was all that mattered now. She swallowed the pills, barely noticing the pain in her throat as the world around her started to slip away.

The phone rang in Giovanni's pocket. He didn't look at it. Alessandro's condition consumed his mind, and the quiet beeping of the machines in the ICU. He hadn't thought about Alessia, not at this moment, not with the weight of his brother's life hanging in the balance.

But then, the call came again, louder this time. Not until Sandro grabbed his shoulder, Giovanni snapped back into focus.

"Giovanni, look," Sandro said, his voice tight with urgency. He handed Giovanni the phone.

A single text message from an unknown number appeared on the screen: "Alessia's in trouble. She's not responding. You need to get to her now."

Giovanni's blood ran cold. "Shit."

He grabbed his jacket, ready to leave the hospital, but Sandro stopped him. "You can't go like this. We need to stick together. You need to focus on Alessandro."

Giovanni's eyes burned with fury. "Alessia needs me."

Without another word, he stormed out of the ICU, his feet pounding down the hallway as he made his way to the exit. Every second felt like an eternity as the weight of the situation slammed into him.

When he arrived at the apartment, he found the door ajar. The room was eerily quiet, and the smell of stale air filled his lungs. He rushed inside, calling her name, but there was no answer.

Then, he saw her. Alessia was slumped against the bathroom door, her body pale and unmoving.

"Alessia!" Giovanni shouted, his voice breaking as he knelt beside her. Her pulse was weak, and she was barely breathing.