5. Luciano
CHAPTER FIVE
LUCIANO
S omething was wrong.
Many people didn’t believe in a sixth sense. I did, and that very same intuition warned me that something was off. I couldn’t pinpoint it to a specific thing, but the moment my wife and I couldn’t get ahold of our daughter, I jumped into the car and drove to Yale.
The moment I turned into the school, my intuition was confirmed. There were police cars everywhere, and my wife sat up, alert.
“Everything will be fine, tesoro,” I assured her.
“But—” Her voice cracked. “Francesca is here.”
No matter how hard I tried, there was no foolproof way to keep my family shielded from the violence of my world. Not a mansion surrounded by sky-high walls, not armies of guards. It was a hard realization to come to terms with once having children, but it didn’t stop me from trying, even if that meant keeping them isolated from the dangers of the world. Like prisoners was the term my family liked to use.
“She is fine , tesoro mio,” I assured her while internally cursing myself for caving and allowing my daughter’s whims to get the best of me. Suddenly, I spotted both of my children being led by uniformed officers from the building, and somehow I wasn’t surprised to find my son here already. “Look, they’re both safe and sound.”
Although those police officers won’t be if they don’t back the fuck away. I kept those thoughts to myself, not wanting to worry my wife.
I’d taught the kids from a young age to have each other’s backs, just like I would always have their backs. No. Matter. What. I made a mistake once, and it’d nearly cost me my wife. I didn’t want my children to repeat my past.
My son was a much better man than I had ever been and always went the extra mile to ensure his sister’s safety. Francesca was also resourceful, but she was young and had been sheltered most of her life.
I trusted my children’s survival skills, and while they didn’t depend on me for protection these days, I still came plowing in like a bulldozer when their well-being was at risk.
I shared a look with my wife, and she nodded. We stepped out of the car at the same time.
“Sir.” A young man, probably around my son’s age, attempted to stop me. My muscles tightened. Something about him seemed familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. In fact, I needed to fight a knee-jerk reaction to kick him in the balls. “You can’t enter the premises.”
His hand came to rest on my wife’s forearm and I pinned him with the darkest look in my arsenal.
“Remove it, officer,” I said, violence edging my voice. “You have exactly one second, or you’ll lose your arm and quite possibly your head.”
“Luciano,” my wife chastised. “That’s not how we speak to people.”
My gaze remained narrowed on the tall man who seemed completely unperturbed by me.
“Or authority figures. For future reference, it’s Special Agent Lloyd,” he drawled, earning himself a murderous glare. He pointed to his chest where FBI was engraved in bold. “In case you can’t read.”
My eyes narrowed on the name tag on his vest.
“I can read,” I deadpanned. “Those are my children, and you won’t be keeping them from me. You can try, but you probably won’t be able to when I bury you six feet under.”
“ You can try.” He flashed me a cold smile, then stepped aside. “Go ahead to your children.”
“As if you could stop me,” I muttered, wrapping my hand around my wife’s waist.
I walked past him without a second glance and approached the squad that had my son and daughter, along with one of the Morrelli twins, surrounded. I could never tell the two girls apart. Although, considering Hannah was always glued to my son, it was probably her. Nikola Nikolaev was here too, looking too eager to start a fight.
God fucking save me from those Nikolaev offspring.
“Where do you think you’re going with my children, officer?” I asked coldly.
“Sir, we have to?—”
“Hello, Mr. V,” Nikola greeted, grinning like a fool. That boy was nothing like his father, Vasili, and everything like his wild uncle, Sasha.
“Are you both alright?” I asked. Nico’s girl looked spaced out, her face paler than snow.
“Hello, Papa.” Francesca pushed through the bodies of officers and threw herself into my arms. “I knew you’d come.”
“You had me worried for a moment there,” Grace murmured into our girl’s deep red locks. Pushing through the men with his football shoulders and tall frame, Matteo followed suit.
“Hey, Ma. Pa, I didn’t expect you qui .” Here. I hugged my son without a word. It didn’t matter that Matteo was all grown up and very capable, my worry as his father remained. “I had it handled.”
“I know, son.”
“I guess no hugs for me,” Nikola grumbled, feigning disappointment.
Grace chuckled. “Come here, you big buffoon. I’ll hug you too.”
Nikola nudged Nico’s daughter into the embrace. “She needs it more than me.”
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Grace asked, pulling her in.
Francesca answered for her when she remained silent. “You should have seen how brave she was, Mom. She kicked ass.”
“Not really,” she croaked. “Matteo saved the day.”
Grace looked stricken while I turned my attention to the police officer. “The children will be leaving now.”
“Not so fast, sir.”
“The shooter is dead,” Matteo stated calmly.
“You should be thanking my son.” Matteo pulled away from the mess of limbs and joined me. “Let’s go, kids.” I turned to the older officer and stated, “We’ll be on our way.”
He wasn’t as easily manipulated as the younger ones. Although, judging by the way his body stiffened, he’d just realized who I was. My reputation sometimes preceded me.
“Sir, we need your son and his accomplice to make a statement,” he reasoned, glancing warily at Nikola’s tall, bulky frame. He was right to be worried. The boy was capable of serious damage. “Your daughter and her friend may go, but we will need a statement from them in the near future.”
I shared a look with my wife and she nodded. “I’ll take them home.”
“Call Bianca, tesoro,” I advised. She was bound to hear about today’s events sooner or later, and then Nico Morrelli would probably set the entire school on fire. Pressing a kiss on top of my daughter’s red curls, I murmured, “I’ll give Morrelli a call as soon as I’m done with this shitshow.”
She knew what that meant.
Francesca wouldn’t be coming back to Yale, and knowing Nico, neither would his daughter.