Chapter 27 - Luca
LUCA
My brother's gone, and the guards don't have eyes on him.
And to make matters worse, my Belle is out there playing bait for a snake who just slithered off his rock.
Yeah, this plan's going real fucking smooth.
"Find him. Now," I growl at Conor, who's looking at me like he's ready to piss himself.
He scurries away like I set his ass on fire.
Declan took the bait, alright. Just not the way we planned.
He was supposed to come after me first—challenge me to my face, man to man, brother to brother.
If not that, we had eyes outside Belle's room for if he went looking for her.
Those were the moves that made sense and the ones we prepared for.
But Declan doesn't play by rules that make sense, does he?
No, he plays by the ones that cut deepest.
Marco's voice cuts once through the radio—"North stairwell—" then nothing.
Like someone put a hand over his mouth and dragged him into a wall.
I stand in my own office and feel the floor tilt.
My comms, usually a quiet hum of men reporting angles and breaths and heartbeat-level updates, turn into dead air and a hiss.
I feel the hair on the back of my neck prickle. Something's off. Way off.
Whatever plans and instructions I'd given, they no longer apply.
If Declan's going rogue, then to hell with my blueprints.
"Marco, talk to me." I'm sprinting the corridor now, reaching for the gun under my jacket.
Static answers me. Then, I nearly trip over a goddamn body.
My heart goes frantic and I get on my haunches, putting two fingers to the guard's throat.
Dead.
Another guard by the marble bust—alive but out cold, blood trickling from his temple.
A third sprawled at the top of the east staircase, the banister painted red where his skull met marble.
Declan's cutting through my men like they're paper dolls.
Each body is a breadcrumb leading me deeper into his maze.
I run down hallways, past rooms where fat cats and their wives still sip champagne, oblivious to the war unfolding under their noses.
My shoes squeak against marble. My heart pounds so hard I hear it in my ears.
Belle. Sofia. The baby.
Christ, the baby.
My fist punches the nearest wall.
Pain ricochets up my arm, but I barely feel it.
Pain's an old friend. Fear is the stranger I never invited in.
"Boss!" Vito catches up, out of breath. "East wing's gone dark. Communications are down, and two men were found dead by the garden entrance."
Fuck.
"Are the cameras back on?"
"They've been disabled by an outside server, and we can't crack the code to bring them back on. Last feed shows Declan moving toward the residential suites."
Where Sofia is, and where Belle went.
"Get me every available man," I order, already running. "Meet me at the hideout suite."
My mind races faster than my feet.
Belle was supposed to be the bait, yeah, but with me controlling every angle.
With eyes on her at all times, and guards just out of sight, waiting for my signal.
But Declan always was the calculating one.
While I was playing chess, he was changing the goddamn board.
He must have known we were playing him, goddamn it. So, he never went to Belle's room.
I hit the landing where the family suites branch off and my heart does a trick I didn't know it could do—it forgets to beat.
The guards that should be posted outside her suite are sprawled on the floor, alive but out cold.
The door that should be locked stands open just enough to let dread crawl through.
I hear her before I see her. My daughter's voice, high and terrified.
Begging.
"Please don't hurt her, Uncle Declan! Please!"
I freeze, knowing I could kill Declan for this.
He's hurting Belle. Scarring Sofia for life.
I peek around the doorframe, just a fraction of a second.
It's enough.
The room's a snapshot from my worst nightmares.
Belle's tied to a chair in the center, refusing to show fear even with a gun pressed to her belly.
Sofia's huddled in the corner with tears streaming down her face.
And my brother's looking like he's finally gotten everything he ever wanted.
I step into the doorway with my gun raised. "Let them go, Declan."
He turns to me, looking every bit like the killer he is.
"Brother! So glad you could join us." His gun doesn't waver from Belle's stomach. "We were just discussing family matters."
Belle's eyes find mine, relieved and grateful. There's a bruise blooming on her cheek.
All I see is red, from the blood flowing to my head, egging me on to seek my revenge.
"This isn't how family talks," I snarl. "Let's you and me sort this out."
Declan laughs. "I've been trying to 'sort this out' for years, Luca. Years of watching you contend for power. But we all know I'm the stronger leader here."
"Put the gun down, Dec. You don't want to do this." My eyes flicker to Sofia, who stands there, petrified.
"Don't I?" His smile turns cruel. "Let's see what your precious bloodline is worth." He presses the barrel harder against Belle's stomach.
Sofia's scream tears through the room—high, terrified, the sound of childhood innocence being murdered in real time. "Don't hurt Belle! Please, Uncle Declan, don't hurt her!"
That cry does something to me.
Flips every switch I've spent years learning to control.
My daughter is watching her uncle hold a gun to the woman she loves, and there's nothing innocent left in this room.
"It's okay, princess," I lie, never taking my eyes off Declan. "Uncle Declan's just confused."
"You bought her." Declan bristles with annoyance. "Why do you care so much?"
"Initially," I say, because we're doing truth tonight and I'm not going to flinch. "Now I'd trade the empire for her."
Belle's eyes flicker with pain and fury, begging me not to fall at Declan's feet, but I don't care.
I step in. One pace.
I keep my gun lowered, my palms open.
I make myself big enough to be a problem and human enough to make him think he's the stronger one here.
"Stop," Declan says.
I stop. Half step short of where I want to be.
I can smell her shampoo. I can hear the hiccup in my kid's crying. I can hear my own breath roaring like surf.
"Slide your gun to me," I add, like we're simply bargaining, "and you walk out alive. You have my word."
He barks a laugh. "Your word bought her. It doesn't buy me."
"Then name your price."
He gestures with the muzzle. "Trade places with Belle."
The room gets smaller.
"Untie her," I say, and my voice goes like winter. "And I'll sit. You get me instead." I can live with that. I can't live with that gun going off an inch from her womb.
"Ah," he says softly. "There he is."
He likes this. He likes me drowning for him.
He adjusts his stance, and I take that half-inch shift like a blessing.
It opens a new line, a new angle, a new possibility.
I let my shoulders sag. I sell defeat. I let him smell it.
"Declan," I say. "Don't do this in front of my daughter."
Sofia is sobbing now, hiccuping. Belle's knuckles are white where the rope cuts.
I step in, just another inch and I keep talking so he doesn't notice I'm moving to stand between him and Belle.
"You want a throne?" I ask. "Take mine. Take me. That's what this is about. You never came for me because you're not brave enough to miss. So you came for what I love because you're smart enough to wound."
He smiles with all his teeth. "Finally. Honesty."
I let my gun hand slant, casual, like I'm tired. I'm not. I'm coiled.
He flicks the muzzle toward my heart to enjoy the view of me on my knees when he makes me take the chair.
That flick is all I need.
I go.
I launch myself at Belle's chair, shoulder driving into the wood hard enough to send it spinning.
The rope burns her wrists as she swings clear of Declan's line of fire, and I throw my body between the gun and her belly.
Declan staggers, but recovers faster than I want.
My hand clamps around his wrist, crushing bone as I drive my knee into his thigh.
He curses, but doesn't drop the weapon.
We're too close now. Too tangled.
Then, a shot rings out.