Chapter 29 - Luca
LUCA
I've built an empire on never showing weakness, never asking for what I can take.
But watching Belle's eyes flutter shut again, her blood still staining my shirt, I'm one heartbeat away from begging God, or anyone else who's listening to keep her alive.
Pride's a luxury I can't afford when the woman I love is this close to slipping away.
Twenty minutes later, I'm with the doctor who makes house calls for men like me.
Discretion costs plenty, but I don't care.
"She needs a proper facility," he mutters, checking her vitals.
"She has one."
My eyes stay locked on Belle's face, pale as winter. "My compound has everything you need. Just keep her comfortable."
The east wing's medical suite is pristine and equipped better than most ERs.
Benefits of paranoia.
"We'll need to monitor both her and the baby through the night." The doctor states the obvious.
Fuck if I let something happen to either of them.
I brush hair from her forehead.
"Take care of her," I tell him.
I step back, let them work, feel my lungs struggling.
Alexei pulls me away.
"It's done," he says.
I know what he means.
Declan's body is gone. The story we'll tell is already being written.
"Double the guard on this room," I order. "No one gets in without my say-so. Not family, not staff, not God himself."
Alexei nods. "Already done. I put our most loyal men on rotation, and the suspects are being interrogated as we speak."
I growl. Tonight, we weed out the traitors.
Declan didn't manage to hack into our cameras without help from the inside.
"Good." I glance at Belle, watching the rise and fall of her chest. "Where is the council?"
"They're already here." Alexei checks his watch. "Word travels fast when the underboss gets his neck snapped by his brother."
I smile. "Then they won't have to wait long."
I turn back to Belle.
The doctor assures me both she and the baby are stable.
The wound is clean, the blood loss stopped. She'll sleep through the night with the sedatives they've given her.
I kiss her forehead, lingering. "I'll be back. Don't go anywhere this time."
Then I walk out, and Luca Moretti the lover vanishes.
Luca Moretti the killer takes his place.
The conference room is a study in tension when I walk in.
The old guard, men who've served the Moretti family since before I was born, stand when I enter, a sign of respect they never showed before tonight.
Funny what killing your brother will do for your reputation.
I take my time studying their faces, watching them squirm.
They're all thinking the same thing: Is Luca next in line, or is he going down for this?
I sit at the head of the table. My father's old seat. The chair Declan coveted most in the world.
"Gentlemen." I keep my voice casual. "I know tonight's been a long night."
Don Fiorello clears his throat. "We heard about Declan. We offer our condolences."
I smile. "Do you?"
The room goes still.
"Let me be clear about something." I lean forward. "My brother tried to poison me. When that failed, he sent men to kill me in my own home. When that failed, he put a gun to my pregnant fiancée's stomach and threatened to kill my unborn child."
Don Fiorello inhales sharply.
"So no, I don't want your fucking condolences." I look each man in the eye. "What I want is answers."
Silence stretches, thick as concrete.
"Declan didn't act alone," I say, drumming my fingers on the table. "He had help on the inside. Now, either you were all too stupid to notice the underboss plotting against his own blood, or you knew and did nothing."
Vittorio, my father's oldest friend, speaks up. "We had no idea—"
"Bullshit," I cut him off. "Declan's been spreading rumors for months, saying I'm not fit to lead."
"We heard whispers," admits Salvatore, the youngest captain. "But nothing concrete."
"And you didn't think to come to me?" I ask, voice dangerously soft. "To warn me that my own brother was turning the family against me?"
I watch them squirm, these men who wore my father's colors before I could walk.
Men who whispered their loyalty to me for years, all while letting Declan turn this family inside out.
"Here's what I think happened." I stand, circling the table slowly. "I think some of you backed Declan because you thought he'd win and he promised you more territory, more power, more money."
I stop behind Romano, rest my hands on his shoulders. Feel him tense.
"I think some of you were tired of taking orders from the son who planned to marry outside the family. The son who wasn't as... flexible... as his brother."
I squeeze, just enough to remind him I killed a man with these hands tonight.
A few flinch. Good.
"And now you're wondering if you backed the wrong horse."
I return to my seat, sitting down with deliberate calm.
"Let me make something perfectly clear." My voice drops. "Declan is dead. I killed him with my bare hands while my fiancée bled on the floor."
The room is cemetery-quiet.
"The Moretti family stands at a crossroads tonight. Either you're with me—all in, no reservations, complete loyalty—or you're against me."
"And if we're against you?" Romano asks, because he's too old to be afraid of death anymore.
I smile. "Then you join my brother."
No one moves. No one breathes.
"I don't give second chances," I continue. "Not after tonight. Anyone who questions my authority, undermines my decisions, or even looks at Belle or Sofia sideways... I will end you. Your wives will be widows. Your children will visit graves."
They need to understand the rules have changed.
"The men talk," Don Fiorello pushes. "They say you've gone soft for the girl and are making decisions with your heart instead of your head."
"The men should mind their fucking business." I lean forward. "My decisions about my family are not up for debate."
"The council should have a say in who becomes the next Moretti wife," Vittorio argues. "Tradition—"
"Tradition?" I laugh, hollow and cold. "Was it tradition for the underboss to try to kill his own brother? Tell me more about these traditions I should respect."
Vittorio shrinks back.
"Here's what happens now." I spread my hands on the mahogany like I'm claiming territory. "You have one choice. Pledge absolute loyalty to me as head of this family, or watch me burn everything to ash and build something new from the rubble."
Romano starts to object. "You can't simply—"
"Can't I?" I smile, all teeth. "While you were racing here to save your own skins, my men took control of every operation we run. Every warehouse, every club, every dollar that flows through this family now flows through me."
Their faces pale as they realize I've outmaneuvered them.
"So, vote. But understand this isn't a negotiation. It's a courtesy."
Salvatore speaks first. "I'm with you."
Smart man.
One by one, they fall in line.
"It's unanimous, then." I nod, satisfied. "Good choice."
"What about the americana?" Don Fiorello asks, testing boundaries one last time. "She caused quite a scene at dinner."
I straighten my cufflinks, letting the silence stretch until it becomes uncomfortable.
When I speak, my voice carries the weight of absolute authority.
"Her name is Belle. She's carrying my child. And she's my wife." I meet each man's eyes in turn. "Anyone who has a problem with that can discuss it with my brother."