Chapter 24 Luca
LUCA
The warehouse door swings open with a groan of rusted metal that echoes through the cavernous space beyond. Darkness swallows us immediately, thick and oppressive, broken only by faint moonlight filtering through grimy windows set high in the walls.
Every instinct I’ve honed over years in this business screams that this is wrong. Too convenient. Too isolated. Too perfectly designed for an ambush.
I’m walking into it anyway.
Because the alternative is abandoning Antonio and losing whatever microscopic thread of trust Gigi might still have in me. I’ve already destroyed so much between us. I can’t destroy this too.
My hand finds the small of her back automatically, a protective gesture I don’t even think about anymore. She’s trembling slightly, though whether from fear or adrenaline or the aftershocks from sex, I can’t tell.
“Stay behind me,” I murmur, my voice barely audible. “Whatever happens—”
“I know,” she whispers back, but her voice is steady despite how I can hear her teeth chattering from fear. “We get my father and get out.”
If only it were that simple.
We move deeper into the warehouse, our footsteps echoing off concrete floors. The space smells of rust and motor oil and something else—something that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Blood. Old blood, soaked into concrete and never quite washed away.
This is where people come to die.
Lights flood on with a harsh buzzing sound that makes us both flinch. Industrial fluorescents mounted on the ceiling, casting everything in stark white light that eliminates every shadow and hiding place.
And there, in the center of the warehouse floor, is exactly what I expected and feared.
Salvatore Romano stands surrounded by at least a dozen armed men, all of them pointing weapons at us with the casual competence of people who kill for a living. He’s dressed impeccably as always—expensive suit, that smug smile that makes me want to rip his throat out with my bare hands.
And bound to a chair in front of him, beaten and bloodied but unmistakably alive, is Antonio Conti.
The staging is deliberate. Precise. Designed to echo Marco’s death in every detail—the chair, the zip ties, the visible signs of torture. Romano wants me to understand that he owns this moment completely. That he’s been orchestrating everything from the beginning.
“Luca Marchetti.” Romano’s voice carries easily across the space. “How good of you to join us. It seems your lovely bride followed my instructions.”
Gigi makes a small sound beside me—something between a gasp and a sob—as she sees her father. I feel her start to move forward, and my hand on her back tightens, holding her in place.
“No,” I murmur. “That’s what he wants.”
“Very wise,” Romano agrees, like we’re having a casual discussion instead of a standoff. “You always were the smart one, Luca. Even when you were young and reckless, you had that core of intelligence that your cousin lacked.”
The mention of Marco makes rage burn hot in my chest, but I force it down. Rage is what Romano wants. Rage makes people stupid.
“Let him go,” Gigi says, her voice stronger than I expected. “You wanted us here. We came. Let my father go.”
Romano laughs. “Oh, my dear girl. Did you really think this was about your father? Antonio is merely…leverage. The real reason we’re all here”—his eyes fix on me, cold and calculating—“is because you decided to share some very interesting information with your husband recently.”
Ice floods my veins.
He knows about the recording, about what Gigi told me. But how much? How specific is his intelligence?
“Antonio Conti has been a thorn in my side for years,” Romano continues, answering my unspoken question. “I had a feeling he squealed to someone about what happened. And who else would he tell than his daughter?”
Gigi starts from beside me, and Salvatore zooms in on it.
His smirk widens. “Did you really think I wouldn’t have surveillance on known associates? That I wouldn’t be monitoring potential loose ends?”
He’s been watching Gigi. For years, he’s been watching, waiting to see if the secret would surface.
“So when my informants reported quite the commotion at the Marchetti estate—raised voices, security breaches, a certain desperate escape attempt”—he smirks at Gigi again, and her face is so, so pale—“I realized my secret was finally compromised.” Romano’s smile widens.
“Rather than wait for you to come for me, I decided to end this on my terms.”
“By kidnapping my father?” Gigi sputters, fury evident. “By threatening—”
“By giving you exactly what you wanted,” Romano interrupts smoothly. “A chance to save your father. A chance for your husband to avenge his cousin. All very noble, very touching.” His expression hardens. “And completely foolish.”
I step forward, putting myself more fully between Gigi and the weapons trained on us. “If you want me, Romano, then let’s end this. Just you and me.” My voice is steel. “Gigi and Antonio are innocent in all this.”
Romano’s laugh echoes through the warehouse, sharp and cruel. “Innocent?” He shakes his head, genuine amusement lighting his features. “Oh, Luca. The two of them are far from innocent. For many, many reasons.”
His gaze slides to Antonio, still bound and bleeding in the chair. “Your father-in-law’s useless and idiotic information got your cousin killed.” Then to Gigi. “And your lovely wife kept that secret. Don’t pretend either of them are blameless victims in this.”
I refuse to let him know how much those words affect me, how much I’ve thought them myself. “Then what is this really about, Salvatore?” I ask. “Why bring us here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Romano spreads his hands wide, the gesture almost theatrical.
“This is about finishing what I started three years ago. You’ve always been a thorn in my side, Luca.
Your cousin may have been the brains, but we all knew you were the one who ran the organization.
You needed to be dealt with as you were the one who posed the most threat to my organization.
That’s what Antonio was supposed to help with.
” He glares at the man, who cowers. Salvatore picks an invisible piece of lint off his suit.
“But even though Antonio’s information was incorrect, it wasn’t completely useless. A Marchetti still died.”
Hearing him admit to Marco’s murder so casually makes white-hot rage surge through me. My hand moves toward the gun at my back.
“Ah ah ah,” Romano tsks, and a dozen weapons cock in unison. “Not yet, Luca. We’re not finished talking.”
“Then talk,” I grit out, my heart thumping angrily.
“Marco’s death didn’t solve my problem. It created a new one. Because while he was the strategic mind, you were the weapon. And without him to temper you, to guide you, you became something far more dangerous than I ever anticipated.”
He takes another step closer, his men moving with him.
“You should have destroyed yourself with grief,” Romano says and anger is evident on his face, in the way his voice pitches upward and his eyes grow cold.
“You should have drunk yourself to death or gotten yourself killed in some reckless play for revenge.” His expression hardens.
“Instead, you became more focused. More ruthless. Built an empire that rivals my own. And now, here we are.”
“So kill me,” I say flatly, even though inside I’m screaming with rage. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? To finish what you started?”
“Oh, I’m going to.” Romano’s smile widens. “But I’ve learned something valuable over the years, Luca. The best revenge isn’t always the quickest. Sometimes, it’s about finding the right leverage. The right…weakness.”
Something cold slithers down my spine. The way he’s looking at me now, the satisfaction in his expression—
“You see, three years ago, I wanted you dead because you were dangerous. A threat to my business, my empire.” His gaze slides deliberately to Gigi.
“But now? Now I realize that killing you quickly would be a mercy. Because somehow, you’ve finally found something—someone—worth protecting again.
Someone who makes you vulnerable in ways you haven’t been since your cousin died. ”
No.
This was never about killing me. It was never even primarily about silencing Antonio or Gigi.
This is about making me suffer the way Romano thinks I’ve made him suffer—by threatening his empire, his secrets, his control.
“Romano,” I start, but he cuts me off.
“I’m not going to kill you, Luca,” Romano says softly, though his eyes glint with hate. “That would be too merciful. Too quick.” His smile is pure malice now. “Instead, I’m going to take away what you love most. Make you watch. Make you live with that loss the way you’ve lived with Marco’s death.”
Horror floods through me as I understand—truly understand—what he’s planning.
The trap springs before I can react.
Romano’s men don’t fire at me.
They fire at Gigi.
The crack of gunfire explodes through the warehouse, deafening in the enclosed space. I move on instinct, throwing myself in front of her, my body becoming a shield between her and the bullets.
But she’s somehow faster.
She slams into me from the side, her smaller body hitting mine with enough force to knock us both off balance. I feel the impact of the bullet—not in my own flesh, but in hers. The way her body jerks against mine, the sharp cry that escapes her, the sudden deadweight as her legs give out.
“No!” I scream as we both go down, concrete rushing up to meet us. I twist at the last second, taking the impact on my shoulder, cradling her against my chest.
Blood. There’s so much blood, spreading across her chest, soaking through her shirt and onto my hands. Dark red, almost black in the harsh fluorescent light.
“Gigi!” Her name comes out strangled. “No, no, no!”
More gunfire erupts around us, but it’s different now as it seems to be coming from a different direction. My heart sputters before I hear familiar voices yelling.
It’s my men.