Chapter 13
Ava
After limping my ass from the shower and into bed, I realized one thing while lying there in Luciano’s bed, surrounded by his sinful scent—I was exhausted, mentally and physically. I hadn’t slept well in the years since I’d been gone. I’d been staying up, worried about being forced back, about being tracked down.
Now that I was back, oddly enough, I felt like I could finally rest.
I knew I was safe because Luciano wouldn’t let anything happen to me. I had shot him, and he barely reacted. He had killed one of his men for touching me. He had protected me before. He had promised to protect me.
And besides all that, one thing had become terrifyingly clear in the last few hours—the life I built for myself was never mine. It was a trick of the light, a mirage that lasted just long enough to convince me that I was free. That illusion was shattering now, and I couldn’t stop it.
So why try?
And I didn’t even have it in me to want to go back to trying…
Was I giving up? No.
Was I giving in? Yes.
Why?
Because for the first time in years, I didn’t feel like I had to be on guard.
Luciano wouldn’t let anything happen to me. He wanted me enough to kill for me.
That realization should’ve terrified me. But instead, it made my eyes drift closed.
I didn’t know how long I slept before the sound of the door clicking open woke me up.
Luciano.
I could feel it was him. The air shifted when he entered a room, the temperature changing, the energy bending around him. I continued to lay stock still.
“You’re awake.” His voice was smooth, calm. He was always so calm.
I sighed, opening my eyes, blinking up at him. He stood at the edge of the bed, unmoving. He had on all black again, his crisp black shirt rolled up to his forearms, showing off his tats. He looked clean, composed—like he hadn’t just killed a man in front of me hours ago. Like he hadn’t chased me through the woods on some primal shit. He was so handsome too, reminding me of an evil version of a superhero who hid behind their glasses. I wondered what his superpower would be. Was that why he wore the glasses he obviously didn’t need?
“I have something to say,” he started. “I practiced this before I came in, so my words wouldn’t come out fragmented, cold—like earlier.”
I stayed silent, surprised at his admission.
He tilted his head slightly, removing his glasses, locking his eyes on my face.
“I’m not trying to keep you locked up, Uccellini. When we’re married, you’ll have freedom—more than most women in our world. You’ll have money. Security. A life no one can touch. You’ll have me.” His jaw tightened. “And you’ll be untouchable.”
His hands flexed against his thighs, like he was already imagining strangling the life out of anyone who dared cross me.
“No one will hurt you again. No one will take from you again. Because I will destroy them, Ava.”
I swallowed. There was something unhinged in his eyes—and I believed every word. It was oddly endearing.
“You don’t have to love me. I don’t require that from you,” he added quietly. “But you will be mine. And I’ll be yours in return.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to something almost intimate, almost gentle. “I’ve waited for this. For you. I want this.” He blinked.
I stared at him. “Okay.”
He stilled, his breath halting for just a second. “Okay?” he repeated, like he hadn’t heard me right.
“Just like that? Okay?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “I could fight you tooth and nail. Or I can take advantage of the opportunities you’re offering. Besides, would you change your mind if I said no?”
Luciano’s brows pulled together, his head tilting just slightly. “No, I would not. But your response is illogical,” he said finally.
I blinked. “What?”
“Your acquiescence,” he clarified, his tone measured and back to normal now. “You have fought every step of the way. You ran. You resisted. You fought me. You tried to kill me…” He paused, his eyes flicking briefly to his shoulder. “And yet, with no further coercion, no negotiation, no counteroffer, you suddenly concede. That is not how human behavior typically works.”
He stepped closer.
“When faced with an undesirable outcome, most people exhaust every option available before surrendering. When fighting fails...They beg, plead, attempt manipulation, or, at the very least, demand terms. You have done none of those things.”
I stared at him, trying to figure out why he was making things more difficult by overanalyzing them. I had agreed. What more did he want?
“Which leads me to conclude one of two things,” he continued. “One. You are attempting to lull me into a false sense of security before making another escape attempt. That would be unwise.” His gaze flicked down to my wrist, to the bruises forming there from my last failed attempt to run.
“Two. You are in a state of psychological exhaustion so severe that you have bypassed the stages of resistance entirely, landing at resignation. Which would mean you are more fragile than I originally assessed.”
I swallowed.
His fingers brushed the edge of the blanket near my hip—the briefest touch, but it was enough to make my skin burn.
“Well?” he asked, still watching me like I was a specimen under a microscope. “Which is it, Ava?”
I exhaled, my pulse hammering in my throat as I just whispered the truth.
“Two. I’m tired. Not fragile though.”
Luciano remained still, watching me. Waiting. As if he needed me to quantify my exhaustion, to break it down into something measurable, something he could categorize and file away in his weird brain.
“I’m tired of fighting,” I admitted. “Tired of running. Of looking over my shoulder. Of feeling like every second, I have to be on guard because I was scared your father would find me and drag me back or kill me. I’m tired of being afraid of what will happen next. Of knowing I don’t control anything—not really. Of pretending I do.”
His eyes flickered. He considered me for a long moment before nodding, as if he was filing my answer away for later analysis.
“Understood.”
I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“But if you’re lying—”
“I’m not. You didn’t rape me.
You didn’t torture me.
You somewhat respected my boundaries even when you could’ve abused your power. For someone raised around violent men, that says something about you.”
His fingers twitched like he was about to touch me but remembered himself just in time. “Whether you’re lying or not. You’re mine, Ava,” he said, quieter now, like the danger had gone underground but not disappeared. “Do you understand?”
I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to say.
I nodded, then shifted under the comforter, stretching my sore limbs. I reached down and pushed the covers back slightly, the cool air hitting my bare skin, breasts exposed, nipples tight. Might as well get used to sleeping next to him.
Luciano went still.
“I’m sleepy. Are you coming to bed?”
His eyes drank me in slowly. His throat bobbed. His hands curled into fists.
Then his expression changed—he suddenly looked startled, like I’d short-circuited something in that strange, brilliant mind of his.
Then he turned so fast that his shoulder—the one I shot him in—banged against the doorframe. He didn’t stop or cry out in pain. He rushed from the room.
Leaving me to wonder what the fuck had just happened.