Dario DeLuca: Savage Bloodline

25. Dario

TWENTY-FIVE

The air is sterile—thecold stench of sanitized leather filling my senses. Out of the window, the world moves in a blur as we speed along the runway for take-off. It’s been years since I’ve been home to Sicily, and being back was more than nostalgic.

It was good to spend the last four days hugging my sweet mother and giving my baby sister away. She was such a beautiful bride, and seeing her in that dress did something to me—the imagery seeping down, planting seeds I damn sure wasn’t prepared for.

We ascend, the plane tilting as my sights land on Mia, who fidgets restlessly across from me. She taps her fingers along the armrest, eyes fixed on the window as the landscape starts to pixelate. A restless energy thrums through her that I recognize all too well—the need to run, to flee this inescapable situation.

Still, her fight hasn’t returned, no more sassy comments or rejecting me at every turn. I’d be a fool to think that our short time at my family’s estate softened her to me. No, this somber, depressive mood she’s been in has nothing to do with me.

And I hate it.

I want to be the only thing she thinks about, the reason she breathes, and if fear is going to be involved, I want that, too.

But more importantly, that seed my sister planted has blossomed, and all I can see when I look at Mia is that she is mine in every sense of the word, and when I get my hands on the fucker who’s the cause of all of this, I’m going to skin him alive, inch by fucking inch.

She shifts again, turning her knees towards the cabin wall almost as if trying to hide and make herself small. My stare roves hungrily over the curves accentuated by her skintight workout leggings, lingering on the luscious swell of her thick thighs. Carnal desire surges through me like a shot of whiskey scorching my veins.

She’s literal perfection.

My train of thought is interrupted when Rafael leans over with a brief, inconspicuous glance at Mia, his gruff voice just above a whisper. ”This is everything we talked about this morning.”

He slides a manila folder into my hands, the weight of its contents heavy. Prior to us leaving for Sicily, he’d found out more about the family that bore that crest and what had happened all those years ago.

I asked him to put it all together for me for this inevitable moment. I flip it open, combing through the information compiled on the shadowy figure hellbent on taking us down. My gaze snaps up to Mia, watching the sunlight dance across her smooth brown skin.

Mia”s head whips around, lips parting as our eyes meet and lock. The air thickens with the potent energy crackling between us, her eyes blazing into mine.

Now”s the time to come clean about everything. I”ve kept her in the dark too long, treating her like a delicate flower in need of protection. But she”s more fierce bramble than fragile petals, all scorching thorns, and fights. This danger is hers, down to the bone, ever since someone started stalking her, ever since they took a shot at her father in a room full of people.

For her safety, the gloves have to come off. No more secrets—if she”s to be my wife, she needs the whole, ugly truth. We take on the consequences as one, indivisible. I hold her look, steely and unflinching.

”Come here,” I command and tap the plush leather seat beside me.

Mia stares at me for a suspended heartbeat before rising in one fluid motion. She crosses the short distance between us, each step igniting pinprick flames along my skin in anticipation of her overwhelming closeness. When she settles beside me, her signature floral scent envelops me—and it’s heady and addictive. I inhale deeply, committing the aroma to memory.

Grounding myself, I pass her the file folder, its contents a sobering weight in her delicate hands. Confusion furrows her brow as she glances my way, though she says nothing. With trembling fingers, she peels open the cover and recoils almost imperceptibly.

Pictures, dozens of them, spill free—snapshots chronicling her every mundane movement. Coffee shop visits, girls” nights with Gabby, filming sessions in her content studio, and family gatherings. All suffused with the creeping dread of being watched and hunted like prey. Her chest rises and falls in shallow pants as the violation becomes more severe.

”When did you get all of this?” she asks at last, panic fraying the edges of her words. Her gaze remains fixed on the damning photographs.

”The pictures I got on the day your father asked for my help,” I admit, studying her reaction closely. “But everything else, Rafael found just before we boarded the plane for Carmela’s wedding.”

”But I”ve only seen this one and the one from the other night.” Her head shakes minutely, fingers trembling as they rifle through the disturbing images. ”Why keep them from me?” For the briefest second, anger clouds her delicate features. ”Whoever this person is has clearly been watching me for a long time. You should have told me.”

The ragged edge of vulnerability in her voice twists like a blade in my gut. In my arrogant desire to shield her from harm, I”ve only compounded her suffering.

”I thought I was protecting you. But I was wrong.”

Mia freezes after flipping over one image after another, seeing the crest on each. But then the color drains from her face as her eyes catch on the newspaper clipping.

‘Local businessman and mayor to repurpose burned-down crime warehouse of the Pesci family.’

Underneath that heading is a picture of her father, Gabby”s father, the police chief, and my father, Carmine—the incendiary revelation of our fathers” sordid roles in that long-buried tragedy.

”My community center…” she whispers, horror and sickening realization warring on her features. ”What does this have to do with anything?”

Her question hangs between us, laden with dread. I force myself to hold her gaze, the visible fear in those expressive eyes breaking through my emotional defenses.

”There”s a reason he chose to attack the community center that night,” I say each word with a leaden weight on my tongue.

”I don”t understand,” she starts.

”He had everyone in one place—the mayor, the police chief…and the DeLucas.”

Her brow furrows, lips parting in dismay as comprehension begins to dawn.

”He blames our fathers for what happened to his family, and now he wants revenge.”

”Who is he?” The rawness of her voice slices through me.

I regard her for a protracted moment, hesitating to shatter what remains of her illusions.

”We don”t know,” I admit, the words like ash on my tongue. ”All we”re sure about is it all started because of your community center. That building used to belong to one of Chicago’s biggest families?—”

”A Mafia family.” The bite of accusation in her tone stings, shattering the fragile trust bridging the chasm between us.

I incline my head, jaw tightening. ”Yes. The Pesci family. They were our rivals for years, and one day, their headquarters burned to the ground, along with every member of their group.”

The sharp inhalation of her gasp slices the strained silence. ”Everyone?”

One clipped nod is all I can offer, the truth, a weight in the pit of my stomach. ”Men, women…and children.”

”Oh my god…” She recoils, hands splaying across her torso as if warding off a physical blow. ”Our fathers killed them? My father killed them?”

I shake my head, struggling against the virulent surge of self-loathing. ”No. I’m sure that was all my father’s doing. But Marcus and Chief Harris might as well have allowed it to happen.”

“What do you mean?”

“They turned a blind eye for profit and power...”

Her brow furrows as she processes this grim revelation. ”Are you saying they were corrupt? That they covered up a massacre for money?”

I meet her accusatory glare with an impassive mask.

”Your father and the chief are corrupt only in the sense that they concealed a major crime.” Leaning back, I steeple my fingers, considering how to peel back the layers of deception woven around her life.

”There was a war raging between the DeLucas and Pescis for years over territory. While there”s no concrete evidence my father ordered the hit on their compound, that”s the speculation.” I pause, watching the play of emotions flit across her face. ”It was business, Bella. My father was Capo, a powerful businessman who moved in the same circles as every politician in this city. If you want control, you have to infect it from the inside out. And money has always been a powerful incentive.”

Mia”s eyes blaze with a complicated blend of hurt and revulsion. ”He bribed our fathers?”

”I”m saying over the years, they became…friends of a sort.” The words curdle in my mouth like spoiled milk. ”And in exchange for looking the other way, Marcus got the money needed to advance his political career. James was just a beat cop with ambitions beyond his station, and now look where he is. The one thing they all agreed on was that the Pescis needed to be eliminated.”

She shakes her head slowly, tendrils of confusion giving way to pained comprehension. ”The fire…everyone died because of some twisted power play?”

”The biggest fire the city had ever seen.” My voice roughens with memory. ”They covered it up, claiming it was an electrical accident that tragically claimed many lives. And that building…they agreed to have it renovated, to breathe new life into the South Side.”

“And now, whoever this is is taking it out on me and out on all those innocent people at the opening.” Revulsion twists her beautiful features. ”This is crazy. So, if they killed an entire family, who the hell is taunting us now? How do you know it”s someone from the Pescis?”

I don”t respond right away, watching the realization bloom in the crease of her brow, the tight line of her mouth.

”What aren”t you telling me, Dario?”

Exhaling slowly, I brace myself against the storm I see gathering in her eyes. ”Whoever he is, didn”t just set one of my men on fire and shoot your dad in front of the entire community. He also torched one of my construction warehouses that night. No one was inside, but this person operates through symbols. The pictures, the clipping, and that crest tell me there is something we”re missing. Someone from that family made it out of that fire, and we”re still trying to figure out who.”

”Great.” Mia lets out a shaky breath, running her hands through her hair. ”So we”re dealing with a vengeful ghost from the past, hellbent on making us pay for sins we didn”t even commit?”

I nod grimly. ”Looks that way. Whoever this is, they”ve been planning this for a long time, letting their anger fester over the years.”

”But why now? Why wait decades to strike?” Mia”s eyes blaze with a mixture of fear and determination.

”I don”t know,” I admit.

She huffs and returns to her nervous fidgeting. ”That makes me feel real safe. There”s some psycho out there trying to kill our families, and we have no idea who it is. It can be anyone.”

”Look at me,” I demand, and she does. ”Protecting you is my duty. I”ll die before I let him get anywhere near you.”