CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
LORENZO
I would burn the world for her, even if it meant I burned too.
Smoke clung to the air like sweat on skin, thick and acrid, curling into my lungs as I crouched behind a rusted crate at the back of the warehouse. My heart thudded like a war drum.
I was in. Luca had drawn their attention out front, just like we had planned. No one suspected I was coming in through the rear. Not even Enrico.
My fingers trembled around the grip of the pistol tucked into my waistband. I didn’t want to use it. I hoped I wouldn’t have to. But if anyone got between me and Maria or Matteo, they’d regret it. I kept scrambling through doors, searching for them.
Voices shouted in the distance. I moved quickly, slipping through the shadows, the warehouse walls groaning around me like they could collapse from guilt alone. Every creak sounded like a scream. And then I heard it, Matteo.
“Mamma!”
That boy’s voice could cut through steel.
I followed the sound like it was a lifeline, weaving through crates and metal beams, kicking up dust with every step. I found them. Maria knelt beside Matteo, her arms around him like a shield, her face streaked with dirt and fear and something fiercer, something that said she’d burn the world to save her child.
She looked up. Her lips parted.
“Lorenzo.”
I crossed the room in three strides, adrenaline thundering in my ears. I scanned the room, and I saw it. There were a bunch of metal explosives in a corner of the room, far from their sight and held together with duct tape. Shit!
“Get up. We have to go. Now. There’s a bomb—”
I didn’t have to say it twice. She scooped Matteo into her arms so fast it was like instinct kicked in. There were no questions and no hesitation, just a mother’s grip on her child and fear in her eyes, the kind that spoke louder than any scream.
I took the lead, muscles locked tight, my heart pounding like a trapped animal. I could almost feel the seconds ticking in my skull. Thirty. Maybe forty, if we were lucky. Enrico hadn’t exactly left a countdown timer on the wall like in some cheap action movie. But there was panic in his voice during that call. Yeah, this wasn’t a bluff.
“Stay close. We are getting out alive, trust me,” I muttered, more to myself than them.
We hit the hallway. Every shadow looked like a threat, and every creak in the floorboards made my nerves snap tighter. Matteo whimpered. Maria hushed him, pressing his face to her shoulder, her body curled around him like a shield.
Behind us—footsteps, heavy and fast. Not ours.
Damn it.
“Go!” I snapped, spinning around just as bullets tore through the plaster. The crack of gunfire felt too loud and too close. I fired back, two shots. I heard one grunt and a thud. But more were coming.
The hallway split ahead. Smoke already rolled down from the west wing, curling like fingers around the ceiling.
“Left!” I barked. We ducked into a side passage, barely dodging another hail of bullets. The corner of the wall exploded in dust beside my head.
Maria stumbled. Matteo slipped halfway from her grasp.
“Don’t stop!”
She righted him and kept running, her breath ragged. I could see the terror carved across her face—raw and real. She wasn’t just scared of dying. She was scared he’d see her scared.
Twenty seconds, maybe.
The service stairs. It was the only exit Enrico’s men wouldn’t expect.
We pounded down them, metal rattling beneath our weight. I counted every clank like it was a heartbeat.
One, two, three—
The door at the bottom groaned when I shoved it open. It was rusted and jammed. I threw my shoulder into it with everything I had. It gave way with a screech, flinging open into the blinding sunlight.
“Out!” I roared.
We stumbled into the alley behind the building. But we weren’t safe.
“Luca’s on the other side,” I growled, yanking Maria behind a dumpster as more shots cracked out. “Cover Matteo!”
She hit the ground with him, her arms curled around his tiny frame. His eyes were wide and scared but dry. He was a brave little guy, like his mom. Like—
No. Focus.
Ten seconds. Maybe less.
I spun and fired again, forcing the shooters to duck. My gun clicked empty.
Shit.
“Run!” I screamed, throwing the gun down and grabbing Maria’s free hand.
We sprinted. The ground trembled beneath us, just a ripple at first and then a deep groan. A sound like the world holding its breath.
Five…
The wind shifted. Heat licked my neck.
Four…
A blast of light behind us. The air grew thick and angry.
Three…
The explosion slammed into us like a wall. I barely had time to throw myself over them. Fire roared, glass shattered, and debris flew like bullets.
Two…
I hit the ground hard. Something sharp tore across my back. The heat was unbearable—like the sun had dropped right onto our heads.
One.
Everything went still.
For a second, I couldn’t hear anything. Just the ringing in my ears and the taste of dust in my mouth. My face scraped against gravel. My lungs burned like I hadn’t breathed in years.
Then, I heard a whimper.
“Matteo…” Maria’s voice was barely a rasp, but it cut through the chaos.
He was okay. Shaken and terrified, but okay. And she was alive. So was I.
We’d made it.
I rolled off them, coughing, my ears still ringing. The building behind us was gone. A twisted, burning shell of what it once was. Smoke curled toward the sky like some terrible offering.
Maria was cradling Matteo and murmuring to him, rocking slightly. Her hands were trembling. Her cheek was scraped, and there was blood on her forehead. But she held him like he was the only thing keeping her anchored to the earth.
And maybe he was.
I sat up, every inch of me aching. My back throbbed where the shrapnel had nicked me, but I didn’t care.
I reached out and touched her shoulder. She turned to me, eyes filled with unshed tears.
“Maria! Matteo! Are you good? You hurt?” I croaked.
She nodded. Then nodded again, like she was trying to convince herself.
Matteo looked at me with wide, scared eyes.
“We are alive,” Maria whispered, and her voice cracked on the words. “You got us out.”
I shook my head. “Barely.”
But I could still feel the heat of the blast and the weight of those last few seconds.
We’d come too close. One wrong step and I wouldn’t be looking at them now. One wrong turn and everything would’ve ended in fire and rubble.
“Remind me never to say ‘trust me’ again,” I muttered, dragging my hand across my face.
Maria let out a weak laugh.
I looked at her and then at Matteo. And for the first time in forever, I felt something like peace settle in my bones—shaky and thin but real.
We were still here.
I led them to the area where I left Luca. Chaos had erupted. Luca was still fighting. I saw him near the front gate, fists flying and blood on his cheek. And Enrico, that smug bastard, stood in the middle of it like he was conducting an orchestra.
“I got them out!” I shouted to Luca.
He didn’t even look. He was too far gone.
He tackled Enrico to the ground, fists slamming into his face over and over. Years of pain behind every blow. The betrayal. The lies. Our father’s murder.
“You killed him! You took everything!”
Enrico just laughed. Blood filled his teeth.
“And I’d do it again. You were all puppets. Your father was weak.”
Luca roared. He reached for his gun. My stomach flipped.
I ran.
“Luca! Don’t!”
He didn’t hear me. He pressed the barrel against Enrico’s temple. His hand shook.
“He deserves it,” Luca growled.
Maria stepped in. Her voice cracked, but it carried.
“Stop!”
He looked up, eyes wild.
“He took everything from us!”
“And you think killing him gives it back? Don’t become him, Luca. You’re better than that.”
He stared at her, torn in half. His finger hovered.
“Justice, not revenge,” she whispered.
And somehow, that got through. His hand dropped. He backed away like the gun had burned him.
Police sirens wailed in the distance. I saw my men with Dante driving in just in time. Dante had called the police.
Enrico lay there, bloodied and laughing.
“You’re all pathetic.”
Maria stood over him. She didn’t flinch.
“You’ll rot in a cell. Alone and forgotten. That’s justice.”
Cops swarmed the scene with guns drawn. They tackled Enrico, cuffed him, and dragged him to the cruiser.
I looked around at the wreckage. The warehouse was a skeleton now. Smoke curled toward the heavens like the last lie Enrico ever told.
Maria turned to me. Her lips quivered, but she stayed strong.
Matteo held her hand.
I touched his head and pulled them both into my arms.
“It’s over.” She leaned into me, her breath shaky.
“It’s finally over.”
But in my gut, I knew something had changed. Justice might’ve been served. But nothing would ever be the same again.
Still, as long as I had her and our boy, I could start over.
The dust hadn’t even settled around the warehouse ruins. We had gone home, and there we were, all three of us—four if you count Luca finally pretending I wasn’t Satan.
Maria was nursing a scrape on her arm. Matteo sat in my lap like it was the most normal thing in the world, but his little shoulders were stiff, and his eyes wouldn’t stop darting around like he was still half-expecting everything to blow up again. Every loud noise made him flinch. Every shout in the distance made his head snap back toward the smoke like he needed to be ready to run. The kid looked like he hadn’t taken a full breath since we got out.
I pulled him in closer, holding him tighter against me, one hand on the back of his head, gently brushing through his curls.
“You’re safe now,” I said softly, my voice almost getting lost in the wind. “I got you.”
He didn’t say anything. He just held on to my shirt like it was the only solid thing in the world. His little fists clenched and unclenched in the fabric.
My chest ached watching him try so hard to be brave. He was just a kid. Just a little boy. And he’d seen things no kid should have to.
“I’m not going anywhere, Matteo. Ever. You hear me?” I whispered. “You’re not alone.”
Maria’s eyes locked with mine. There was something heavy in her expression, something she’d been holding for too long.
“Oh, how touching. Where is my pet talk, or I don’t deserve one,”
That’s when I noticed Luca. He was standing awkwardly nearby like he wasn’t sure if he should thank me or punch me again. The look on his face said both options were still on the table.
I looked at him, and then at his clenched fists, and then back up.
“Okay, I will give you one,” I raised a brow, adjusting Matteo’s weight on my leg. “But if you ever punch me again, I’m knocking all the teeth off your jaw. I only let it slide the first time because, you know, trauma and grief and all that sentimental stuff. But next time? I'm flipping tables.”
Luca finally cracked a smile. It started small like he didn’t quite believe it was allowed, but then it spread, and he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck like a teenager caught sneaking back in at 3 a.m.
“You let it slide because you knew I’d knock you out cold.”
“Sure,” I nodded solemnly. “Right after pigs fly and Enrico joins a knitting club.”
Maria rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Children” before standing. Her arm had a small cut, and she was dusting herself off with a sigh like she was trying to shake off the last seventy-two hours.
“Now that you two have had your testosterone tug-of-war,” she stepped forward, her voice lighter now, “I think it’s time we tell Matteo something important.”
I tensed. It wasn’t that I didn’t want it. God, I wanted it. I just couldn’t believe it was real and that I had earned this. That someone like me, someone carved in shadows, who danced too close to the wrong side of every line, could get to sit in the sun for once.
Matteo looked up at Maria like she hung the moon.
“Matteo,” she crouched beside us, her hand brushing his wild curls with that mother-gentle touch I was still trying to learn. “Remember how I told you about your dad, and I said one day you would meet him?”
He nodded, eyes wide.
“Well,” she smiled, glancing at me, then back at him. “He’s right here.”
Matteo blinked. Then he blinked again.
“Lorenzo is your father,” she said softly.
My heart was jammed so far up my throat that I didn’t even dare breathe. I watched him, scared to move, scared to scare him—scared I’d screw this up just by being me.
Then he looked at me. And something shifted.
That tight line of worry across his brow softened, and his shoulders dropped. The fear was still there, but now it was loosened and dulled like it finally had somewhere to rest.
He smiled.
He looked like he’d just found something he’d been missing his whole life and didn’t even know it.
“Daddy?”
That one word split me open and finished me. Right there in the dirt, surrounded by ash and aftermath, I was done. Just a man ruined by a kid’s voice and a lifetime of regret finally catching its breath.
It wasn’t just that he said it. It was how he said it—like it made sense and felt right. Maybe, just maybe, the world wasn’t such a terrifying place anymore because he had someone to call by that name now.
I was no good at holding it in. I never have been.
“Yeah, buddy,” I whispered, scooping him into my arms and burying my face in his tiny shoulder. “Yeah, I am.”
I felt it the way he melted into me and the way his arms wrapped tight around my neck, not from fear this time but comfort and trust. He exhaled one long, shaky breath, and I could feel the tension draining out of his little body. For the first time since we bolted out of that hellhole, Matteo finally looked like a kid again. He was not a scared kid or survivor, just a boy in his dad’s arms, believing the world might be okay after all.
Maria wiped at her cheek quickly and failed miserably to pretend she wasn’t crying.
Luca was quiet for a while. Then, in the most Luca way possible, he ruined the moment.
“Wait, wait,” he looked between us, narrowing his eyes like a detective in a soap opera. “Are you saying the one-night stand you had was with Shade?”
Maria raised both brows as if she were daring him to keep going.
“You slept with the enemy?” he practically yelped.
“I didn’t know he was the enemy!” she snapped, hands flying in the air. “I wore a mask! It was a masquerade. How was I supposed to know the charming man I danced with all night and ended up with was actually your mortal enemy?”
I cleared my throat and started covering Matteo’s ears. “Hey, still here, father of the child, sitting right here.”
Luca burst out laughing. “Oh, this is priceless. This is the kind of thing I will tell at your wedding. With a slideshow.”
Maria groaned. “Aren’t you glad it worked out?”
“I mean, it’s a plot twist for the ages,” Luca grinned, eyes finally warm and letting go of the years of hate. “But yeah, I guess I am. You made him better.”
That hit me square in the chest. Not just because it was true, but because hearing it from Luca meant something. I knew what I’d done and who I’d been. And I knew Maria was the one who pulled me out of it, even when I tried to drag her in.
I pulled Matteo tighter against me, his small arms looping around my neck.
“I missed so much,” I whispered to Maria when Luca wandered off to give us space, probably pretending not to sniffle. “His first words. His first steps. His first everything.”
“But he’s here now,” she said softly. “And so are you.”
Matteo patted my face like I was a jungle gym.
“I have a daddy now,” he grinned.
My throat closed up. I kissed the side of his head and felt the way his little body leaned into mine so easily. It was like he knew and like he’d always known.
“Yeah,” I breathed out. “You do.”
And for the first time in a very, very long time, I felt like I belonged somewhere.
Not in darkness. But in light.