Chapter 46
Luciano
Ava wanted a night off from everything. She chose an amusement park. I had never been to one. It was chaos—screaming children, blaring music, the smell of fried sugar and meat. It was a battlefield of overstimulation.
Ava was thriving.
She practically bounced ahead of me in jean shorts and a crop top. I trailed behind, hands in my pockets, calculating escape routes and measuring the structural integrity of the roller coaster in the distance.
“This place is absurd,” I muttered as she handed me a cone of cotton candy.
She didn’t even look at me when she said, “Just shut up and eat the pink cloud.”
I frowned at it.
She raised a brow. “You’ve never had cotton candy?”
“I know what it is,” I said flatly. “It’s sugar. Colored air. It serves no purpose. Has no nutrients.”
“Just try it, robot.”
I tore off a piece. It dissolved on my tongue—sweet and immediate. Pointless. Soft. Warm somehow. I hated how much I didn’t hate it.
“See?” she said, triumphant. “You like it.”
“I tolerate it.”
“You like it.”
“I’m tolerating it very thoroughly.”
She laughed—loud.
“You enjoyed it. And you’re enjoying being here. I saw you almost smile on the roller coaster.”
I shook my head. “Enjoyment is subjective.”
“God, you’re such a grouch. You need to channel your inner child,” she said, linking her arm through mine. “He’s in there somewhere. Probably hiding behind your encyclopedic knowledge of where to stab people.”
We kept walking. I let her drag me to a balloon-popping game I knew was rigged and still managed to win her a sad-looking purple bear. She hugged it like it was made of gold.
Out of nowhere, a little brown-skinned boy with big eyes stepped in front of us. “Hey!”
He was no older than five—wide-eyed and alone, ice cream cone dripping down his wrist. His forehead was damp from sweat, and his lip wobbled when he looked up at me.
“Are you a superhero?” he asked, blinking.
I stared down at him. “No.”
He frowned. “But you look like one. Like the one with the sticks. The blue one.”
“Nightwing?”
He nodded.
I crouched slightly. “Where’s your mother?”
The kid’s eyes welled. “I don’t know. I was just looking at the fish in the glass and then… she was gone.”
My jaw clenched. I scanned the crowd—clocked exits, security, and the most likely direction a frantic mother would come running from.
“She’s probably losing her mind right now,” I said flatly. “That’s what happens when you disappear. Kids who wander off don’t always come back.”
His lip trembled. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Doesn’t matter. Bad people don’t care if you mean to. Stay close to the people who keep you alive. That’s how you don’t end up in a van somewhere.”
“Luciano,” Ava snapped, crouching beside the boy. “He’s a baby. Stop it!”
I didn’t say anything. But I wasn’t wrong.
She softened her tone and looked at the kid. “What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Jacob.”
She gave me a pointed look. “Stay with him. I’ll go find help.”
I wanted to argue. I didn’t do kids. Didn’t even know how. But I nodded.
She stood and took off, weaving through the crowd. I sat on the bench beside the boy. He glanced up at me with big, damp eyes.
“You look strong,” he whispered. “You could beat up bad guys if they tried to take me. Huh?”
“Yes. But even strong people get taken,” I said. “That’s why you don’t ever walk away from your mother. And when you’re big and strong like me, you learn to protect her.”
He didn’t say anything else—just stared at me like I was an actual superhero.
A few minutes later, a woman came sprinting toward us, sobbing. Ava was behind her. The boy ran to her, burying his face in her stomach. She thanked us through tears and held his face like she thought he might disappear.
I didn’t say anything. Ava did enough of the comforting for both of us.
Later, as we walked toward the exit, she was quiet. Then she glanced at me.
“I think you would make a good dad.”
I looked at her. “I’d have to keep them in a fortress.”
I didn’t want an heir like my father expected. Bad things happened to children. I don’t think I would survive what happened to me happening to a child.
“A fortress isn’t always a bad thing... if it has windows.”
I didn’t answer.
Instead, I reached for her hand and said, “We go back to the condo tomorrow.”
She sighed. “Let’s stay for a few more days. Just to be sure everything’s calm after the Russo fallout. I didn’t want to say anything, but your father’s guards make things feel safer.”
I hesitated. I was ready to have privacy again.
Her thumb brushed my palm. “Please?”
I nodded slowly. “A few more days.”