Vanessa claimed Sophie injured herself on a garage door, until Luca noticed the blood, the wheelchair, and one terrified look that told him his mother was missing. / Chapter 33 / 50

Chapter 33 - A Council of Wolves

Before the sunset bled into the smoggy horizon, I found Luca in the bunker’s armory.

He was alone, stripped to a black compression shirt, methodically loading rounds into high-capacity magazines. The steady *click-clack* of brass was hypnotic. On the table beside him lay an old, faded photograph.

I stepped into the dim light. "Who is that?"

Luca didn't look up, but his thumb traced the edges of the worn picture. "My tenth birthday. He gave me a pocketknife with the family crest. An hour later, he threw me into the estate’s hunting kennel with three starved Dobermans to see if I had the stomach to kill."

I sucked in a sharp breath. "Did you?"

"I killed two. The third tore open my shoulder before Antonio shot it." Luca set the magazine down with a heavy thud. "He smiled at me, Sophie. He patted my bloody head and said, *'Now you are almost worthy of my name.'* I spent my whole life trying to earn the respect of a corpse. And now I find out he spent two decades laughing at me."

"He didn't laugh because you were weak, Luca," I said, stepping beside him and resting my hand over his scarred knuckles. "He hid because he was terrified of you."

Luca looked at me, his amber eyes reflecting the dim tungsten bulb above. "Terrified?"

"A man who fakes his death doesn't do it out of strength. He ran because his enemies were closing in, and he let a twelve-year-old boy take the crosshairs off his back. He let you fight his wars, stabilize his city, and make the Moretti name untouchable. He came back now only because you built something he could never build himself."

Luca reached up, cupping my cheek in his rough, calloused palm. His thumb brushed over my cheekbone, his touch unexpectedly tender amidst the rows of rifles and body armor.

"You see through everything, don't you, little bird?" he whispered.

"I see you," I answered softly, leaning into his warmth. "And I know who the real Don is."

"If anything happens to me in that tower—"

"Don't," I cut him off, my voice trembling with sudden ferocity. "Don't you dare give me a farewell speech, Luca Moretti. You dragged me out of that servant's quarters. You showed me the rot beneath this city, and you put a gun in my hand. You don't get to leave me behind now."

Luca stared at me for a long heartbeat. Then, he pulled me roughly against his chest, his mouth crashing onto mine with a desperate, bruising hunger. The kiss tasted of iron, danger, and a fierce, untamed devotion. It was a promise signed in fire.

When he broke away, his eyes were clear, the hesitation burned entirely to ash.