30. Lucky
30
LUCKY
I lead Jacklyn through the sprawling corridors of Scar’s home, my pace steady, my silence palpable. Jacklyn hugs her arms around herself as she walks beside me, looking small but curious, her gaze darting to the occasional ornate mirror or glimmering chandelier. It’s a world she’s accustomed to, but she seems overwhelmed nonetheless.
“It’s just down this way,” I say, just so I can break the quiet. I glance back at her briefly, my expression unreadable. I’m a man who’s composed most of the time, but right now, there’s a tension residing in my shoulders that betrays me.
Jacklyn nods, not trusting herself to speak. I am hyper-aware of her presence, the way her small frame seems to dance against the marble floors. She’s barefoot and ragged, her clothes a twist of fabric that has seen better days after her run through the wild. But despite all that, despite the cuts and bruises and the dirt caking her face, I cannot deny the pull I feel toward her. In this moment, she’s vulnerable yet strong, lost but found. If she were a different person, if it was anyone else, I know she wouldn’t have made it out of those woods alive. Hell, she probably wouldn’t have managed to get away from her captors in the first place.
Finally, we stop at a door near the end of the hall. I open it, stepping aside to let her enter first. A magnetic charge courses through me as she steps past me and walks into the room, as though the mere air surrounding her is pervasive in the space between us.
“This is your room,” I say simply, shaking off the zap of electricity that surges. “Allegra has organised some clothes and toiletries for you in the closet and the ensuite.” I point toward the bathroom, and her eyes flick that way, then come back to meet mine. I can see there’s something on her mind.
“Who lives here?” she asks, and I know she’s referring to the expansive floorplan of Scar’s home. It’s a palace fit for an entire village.
“My brother Scar and his wife Allegra. They have a daughter, Scarlett. Minimal staff.”
She nods her head in understanding and swallows back a lump that forms in her throat.
“I live in my own house a few hundred feet away. We all live here, but in our own homes.”
“You all live here?” Her eyebrows lift in surprise; the concept seems foreign to her.
“We do. We knocked down our childhood home and decided to build close to each other.”
She nods again and her eyes move around the room. The space is warm and inviting, with soft lighting and a large bed covered in a deep burgundy comforter. A plush armchair sits by the window, which overlooks the vast gardens outside. She walks toward it, standing near the window. I know that she’ll be able to see my house from the balcony.
Jacklyn hesitates, then brushes her fingers against the velvet of the armchair. “It’s beautiful,” she murmurs, glancing at me.
“Scar’s wife… Allegra… she’s got a knack for this kind of thing,” I tell her, scratching the back of my neck. There it is again—that flicker of vulnerability peeking through my stoic exterior.
An awkward silence settles between us, the air thick with unsaid words. The sound of hurried footsteps and the faint jingle of bracelets saves us. Allegra bursts into the room, her dark curls bouncing and her eyes bright with warmth.
“Jacklyn! Welcome!” she exclaims, her voice too enthusiastic for my exhausted brain. Honestly, I love my sister in law to death, but she’s a ball of energy none of us can tame.
Jacklyn turns, taken aback but smiling despite herself. “You must be Allegra,” she says.
“Guilty,” Allegra replies with a grin, stepping forward and pulling Jacklyn into a quick, friendly hug. “I’m so glad you’re here. And I mean that sincerely. Any friend of Luca’s is family here.”
“Luca?”
Jacklyn glances at my rapidly reddening ears, her eyebrows lifting in curiosity. Recently, she’s mistakenly called me Luciano. I’d told her it was Lucky, not even referring to my birth name – Luca. I clear my throat but say nothing, my gaze fixed somewhere above the women’s heads.
Allegra, ever observant, catches it immediately and laughs. “Oh, has he given you the whole ‘It’s Lucky, not Luca’ spiel? Well, let me tell you something about Luca.” She looks at me pointedly, relishing my discomfort. “He’s the resident welcoming committee around here. Did he tell you how he welcomed me on my wedding day?”
My head snaps her way. “Allegra…” I warn, my voice low.
“Oh, come on. It’s a good story,” Allegra says, waving me off. She turns to Jacklyn, her eyes twinkling. She starts talking too quickly, and I have whiplash just trying to keep up with her .
“So, get this,” Allegra starts, her grin infectious. “It’s my wedding day, right? And I’m a total wreck. Scar’s this giant, brooding, terrifying mob boss who looks like he eats fear for breakfast. And me? I’m a girl who thought an ‘arranged marriage’ was something that only happened in old movies. So, there I am, practically hyperventilating, when Lucky knocks on my door.”
Jacklyn tilts her head, intrigued. I groan, already bracing himself for what’s coming. “Allegra?—”
“No, no, don’t stop me!” Allegra cuts me off, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, he walks in, all cool and collected, like he’s just there to borrow a cup of sugar or something. But then he says something and starts laughing.”
Jacklyn’s brows shoot up. “Laughing?”
“Laughing,” Allegra confirms, doubling down with a dramatic reenactment. “I’m standing there, in my wedding dress, a bundle of raw nerves, and he’s cracking up like someone just told him the world’s funniest joke. I’m thinking, ‘Oh great, the mob’s resident comedian is here to make my life worse.’ But no—he tells me he’s come to welcome me to the house. And he keeps laughing. Like, the kind of laugh that makes you question if he’s sober.”
She pauses, her expression shifting to mock suspicion as she turns to Lucky. “You weren’t high that day, were you?”
Jacklyn bursts into laughter before I can respond, and Allegra’s theatrics only fuel it. I sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. I somehow don’t remember the story the way she’s telling it. “For the last time, I wasn’t high. It’s called nervous laughter.”
Allegra smirks. “Uh-huh, sure. Well, nervous or not, it was the weirdest ‘welcome to the family’ moment ever. But honestly?” She leans in closer to Jacklyn, as though sharing a secret. “It worked. His ridiculous laughing fit snapped me out of my spiral. I only ended up burning my wedding dress.” She shoots Jacklyn a cheeky wink before she gets ready to leave.
Jacklyn is grinning so hard her cheeks must hurt. “Sounds like he has a unique approach to stress management.”
I shoot her a look, but my lips twitch in a reluctant smile. “You two done yet?”
Allegra pats his shoulder as she heads for the door. “Not even close, but I’ll spare you—for now.” She winks again at Jacklyn, the two already warming up to each other. “Welcome to the madhouse, by the way. You’re going to fit right in.”
With that, she’s gone, leaving me shaking my head and Jacklyn chuckling.
“She’s… something,” Jacklyn says, her voice laced with amusement. “Is she always like that?”
I smile, my lips curving in a resigned smile. “Yeah, she is. Scar never stood a chance.”
Jacklyn catches my gaze, her own softening. “I like her. And for what it’s worth, I think your awkward welcome was probably exactly what she needed.”
I shrug, but there’s a flicker of warmth in my expression. “Maybe. Just don’t go expecting a comedy routine every time I show up.”
Jacklyn smirks. “Noted. But I’ll admit—I’m a little curious now.”
“Careful what you wish for,” I warn her.
Jacklyn steps closer, the space between us narrowing. “Always so serious. Where are you hiding that other side of you, Luciano?”
I don’t correct her as she teases me. For a moment, I don’t even respond. My gaze meets hers, and the air between us hums. Then I break the moment, taking a step back. “Get some rest,” I tell her, my voice quieter now. “You’ve had enough excitement for today.”
The compound is locked down tighter than Fort Knox. Guards patrol every conceivable entrance and cameras track even the slightest movements. They’re so sophisticated, I’m sure they could even capture the air as it breezes past the entryway. Scar’s estate has been converted into something resembling a military operation overnight, and now all business is being conducted from the basement of the mansion—a room we’ve nicknamed the War Room.
The War Room at Scar’s home isn’t part of the regular estate tour. It has its own entrance tucked discreetly off the side of the house and is rarely used unless things are serious. Mostly, it was built in as a panic room – we each have one in the basement of our homes.
The hallways are quieter than usual as Jacklyn and I head in that direction, the atmosphere heavy with the unspoken tension of looming threats.
“So, how is this going to work?” Jacklyn asks, her voice breaking the stillness.
I glance at her, keeping my steps even. “How is what going to work?”
“Me being here in this house. Away from my own home, my family, my business…”
Her words hang in the air, and I can hear the edge of frustration in her tone. She is trying to keep it together, but she’s getting antsy now, and the cracks are starting to show.
“It’s not safe for you to go back there,” I tell her, my voice firm.
She stops mid-stride, turning to face me. Her eyes narrow, the stubborn tilt of her chin telling me this isn’t going to be an easy conversation. “It’s my home,” she says, as if I didn’t already know. The way she says it—like home is some untouchable sanctuary—makes me want to sigh. I haven’t forgotten that she lived in a palace, the kind of place where people don’t just visit; they gawk. But for now, it’s a fortress without an army, and I can’t let her go anywhere she’s not protected.
“I need you to change your mindset a little, Jacklyn. For the moment, this is the safest place for you to be,” I tell her, trying to keep my voice calm.
I don’t tell her that Daniel Russo raided the compound, effectively destroying every inch of her home. The house will need major repair before she can even think of stepping back inside it, but it also needs tighter security. I save her the added heartbreak that I know will only add to her woes; there’s a time and place for everything, and right now, all I want is for her to concentrate on what’s important. Helping us find Daniel Russo so we can bury him in a pile of rubble.
“Why would I…” She starts, but her voice trails off as we enter the War Room. She freezes, her eyes widening as she takes in the sight before her.
Every wall is a display of deadly craftsmanship—guns, knives, crossbows, and weapons I can’t even name, all arranged with precision. It is an armory that could supply a substantial army and then some.
“Wow,” she breathes, stepping further into the room. Her fingers twitch, as if she wants to touch the cold steel but thinks better of it. “This is… something else.”
I smirk, leaning casually against the edge of the large conference table in the center of the room. “Scar likes to be prepared.”
“No kidding,” she mutters, her gaze darting from a particularly wicked-looking blade to a high-powered rifle mounted like a trophy. “This looks like the set of an action movie. Do you actually use all of this?”
“Not all at once,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
She shoots me a look, a flicker of amusement crossing her face. “Good to know.”
For a moment, she seems to forget her frustration, her curiosity taking over. She moves through the room like she is trying to piece together the kind of man Scar is, as if the weapons might tell her more about him.
But then her earlier question comes rushing back. She turns to me, arms crossed. “I still don’t see how this is going to work. You can’t expect me to just… stay here indefinitely.”
“It’s not forever,” I say, my tone softening. “It’s just until we can make sure you’re safe.”
Her gaze meets mine, and for a second, the tension between us shifts. There is something vulnerable in her eyes, something that makes me want to close the distance between us. But I hold back, shoving my hands into my pockets instead, because I know there’s a very real danger that I will reach out and touch her.
Before I can say anything else, the door to the War Room swings open. Scar and Caleph enter, followed by Dante and Rafi. They look like they’ve been up for hours, practising their targets in the woods behind the house. They’re chatting amiably and set down all manner of weapons on the bench in the middle of the room to be checked and polished, before they look up and notice us standing in the corner of the room.
“You missed the hunting session,” Scar says, though it sounds more like an admonishment than anything else.
“Late night,” I tell them. “Sorry I missed it.”
“You sleep alright?” Scar asks Jacklyn. “Everything to your liking?”
“Everything’s fine. Your wife is amazing.”
Scar gives her a small smile as a wistful look spreads over his face. Each man in this room, save Rafi because he doesn’t have anyone in his life yet, has stars in his eyes when the conversation turns to his wife. I wonder what it must be like for them, this complete and utter obsession that consumes them when it comes to their significant others.
“Do you mind if I join you?” Jacklyn asks. “Next time you go hunting?”
The men all turn to each other, shooting curious glances between them. It’s an unusual request from a stranger outside their circle.
“Not at all.” It’s Caleph who speaks up. “We’d love to see what the Vicci leader is made of.”