35. Luca
THIRTY-FIVE
LUCA
I reloaded my gun.
I stared at the building’s heavy iron door. Of course this was the place Alexei chose. An old Bratva safehouse. I’d spent a year of my life here—caged, humiliated, trained. My skin crawled just standing outside it.
Don’t think about it.
I slid my baseball cap lower and exhaled, pressing the gun’s weight into my palm to steady myself. They’d trained me for this. Too bad for them.
I crept along the shadows, skirting a rusted fence line. Two more guards patrolled lazily ahead, smoking. I crept up behind them.
One turned his head. Too slow. My arm snaked around his throat, my other hand muffling his scream as I twisted hard and dropped him like dead weight. The second guard was faster—he fumbled for his gun—but I fired once. Point-blank. Blood sprayed the gravel. He fell.
Don’t think about it.
I stepped over their bodies and pushed toward the rear of the building. The air stank of old oil and rot. I swallowed hard, the memories coming too fast—metal doors slamming, voices shouting in Russian, the endless darkness of the room they used to throw me in. My side throbbed from my stitches tearing open.
I forced my way through a back window, glass shards catching my sleeve. I dropped into the shadows of an empty hallway, gun raised, ears straining. Footsteps echoed deep in the building. I followed, slipping in between shadows.
Where are you, Dom?
Then a voice rang out.
“Luca.”
I froze. The lights snapped on.
“ Welcome home. ”
Alexei stood at the far end of the room, dressed in a dark coat and tailored slacks. The bastard barely looked older than he had the last time I’d seen him. Two of his men flanked him, rifles in hand.
His lips curled. “I wondered how long it’d be before you came.”
I raised my gun. “Where is he?”
Alexei’s gaze dropped to my side, where the blood soaked through my shirt. He tsked, shaking his head. “I trained you better than this.”
That’s what he called it? The nights spent locked in a room, the endless beatings until I couldn’t move, the humiliation that made me wish I’d die?
“You didn’t train me. You tortured me.”
“You were nothing when I found you. A scared little rat hiding in the walls. I made you useful. I gave you strength.” He sneered, his voice dropping into a growl. “And what did you do with it? You put a bullet in the Pakhan’s head.”
I could still smell the blood. Feel the weight of the gun in my hand.
Alexei took a step closer, the guards mirroring him. “You slaughtered your own leader. The man who gave you a roof, food, purpose. And for what?”
I aimed the gun at his face.
Alexei chuckled. “Look at you. Bending over for the Italians like a good boy. A Bratva brat turned whore. ”
My teeth ground together. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
He took another step closer. The guards flanked him, the barrels of their rifles dipping. “The tattoos on your skin mean loyalty, and you’ve turned them into a joke.”
“Good. I never wanted them.”
“I’m going to burn them off you,” Alexei continued calmly. “That’s what you deserve. You’re a disgrace .”
My back throbbed like it remembered every blow meant to break me.
“You’re not laying a fucking hand on me.”
He raised his gun, the barrel aimed right at my head.
I dove to the side as the shot rang out. The sound shattered through the air, the force of it splitting my eardrums. I hit the ground hard. My gun clattered out of reach, skidding across the floor.
I gritted my teeth as I tried to move. The room spun, but I forced myself forward, clawing toward my weapon.
Heavy footsteps closed in, and a boot slammed into my ribs. The air punched out of my lungs, the room swimming in red shades.
I wheezed, curling onto my side.
Alexei loomed over me. “You’re nothing but a broken weapon. That’s all you’ve ever been.”
A door at the far end of the hall crashed open.
Gunfire erupted like thunder.
“Luca!” Dominic’s voice roared.
Dominic.
I forced my eyes open, pushing through the haze of pain. Dominic stormed into the room, his gun raised. Santino was right behind him, taking out one of Alexei’s men.
Alexei turned to Dominic. I lunged, my fingers scraping against the cold floor as I grabbed my gun.
I fired.
The recoil jarred through my arm, the shot cracking like a whip. Alexei staggered, a guttural noise escaping him as he clutched his stomach, blood soaking through his tailored shirt. His eyes went wide, his mouth twisting.
Dominic dropped to his knees by my side. His hands were on my face. His wild eyes scanned me. “What are you doing here?”
“Couldn’t… let you face him alone.”
Dominic’s jaw worked. “You stubborn bastard.”
Santino stepped up to Alexei’s crumpled form. He put another bullet in Alexei’s chest. The crack echoed. Alexei slumped, blood pooling beneath him.
Dominic didn’t look back. He held me, his arms like iron as though he could keep me from falling apart. I sagged against him, my cheek pressing to the solid warmth of his shoulder.
“Is he gone?” Dominic asked.
Santino nudged Alexei’s lifeless hand with his boot before kicking the gun away. “Yeah. He’s done.”
Dominic exhaled sharply, his hand sliding beneath my knees. “Hold on.”
“ Don’t .” I gritted my teeth as he lifted me. “Don’t carry me.”
“Shut up. You’re not walking out of here on your own.”
I let my eyes fall shut as he carried me, every jolt of his step rattling through my battered body. Santino followed silently, his presence a steady shadow at our backs. The cold night swallowed the glow of the building as we stepped outside.
Dominic’s hold tightened. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
I let out a shaky breath, the tension finally bleeding from my chest.
The weeks after Alexei’s death passed in a blur.
I didn’t remember much of the first week, just the steady hum of Dominic’s voice and the warm weight of his hand holding mine.
Dominic insisted I move in with him while I recovered. He hovered more than I liked, but I didn’t mind too much. Not when he kissed my temple every time he thought I was asleep.
Once I could move around without Dominic threatening to tie me to the bed, I spent more time with family.
Delilah’s kitchen was a mess. Flour dusted the counters, my sleeves, and probably my hair. Delilah sat across from me, rolling out uneven circles of dough with too much flour.
She scowled. “If you’ve got something to say, say it .”
I crimped the edges of another pelmeni. “You sure you weren’t adopted? No Russian I know makes dumplings that ugly.”
She hit my shoulder with a dish towel. “Don’t be mean.”
“Just saying,” I muttered, holding up my dumpling. “This is a masterpiece. Yours look like?—”
“ Don’t. ”
I chuckled, and the front door opened.
Dominic’s voice carried down the hall. “It smells like a bakery in here.”
“Take off your shoes!” Delilah yelled.
Dominic walked into the kitchen, shoeless and his tie loosened, a handful of small, shiny-wrapped gifts under his arm. His hazel eyes zeroed in on me.
“What’s that?”
I shrugged, rolling out the next piece of dough. “I promised you I’d make you pelmeni.”
Dominic grinned, strolling to me. He leaned down and kissed my cheek. “You spoil me, sweetheart.”
I grunted.
Dominic set the gifts down on the counter, his grin turning sly as he glanced between me and the neat rows of pelmeni. “So thoughtful. You’re always looking out for me, huh?”
I gave him a look.
He hummed, plucking a finished dumpling off the tray. “I got some tragic news about an employee this morning. One of my floor managers. Frank. You remember Frank?”
I stilled. “Yep.”
Dominic’s lips twitched. “Yeah. Well, he had a bad night. Broke his neck. His body was found outside the city.”
I met his gaze, unblinking.
Frank had it coming. The son of a bitch ran his mouth to Alexei. He could’ve killed Dominic. I’d dragged a confession out of him before I put him down like the rat he was. I didn’t lose a wink of sleep over it.
He placed the dumpling back on the tray. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
I shrugged. “Must’ve fallen into the wrong company.”
“Guess so,” he said.
“He’ll be missed.” Not by me .
Dominic’s hand stroked my back, and he straightened. “Yeah, but you know me. I’m all about moving forward, and dinner smells fantastic, so let’s not waste it.”
“Plates are in the cabinet,” Delilah muttered.
I glanced up at Dominic, who pulled out dishes. Santino appeared in the doorway, jerking his head toward Dominic. “Let’s talk in the office.”
As soon as they left the kitchen, Delilah turned to me. “Who is Frank?”
I dropped another finished dumpling onto the tray. “Don’t worry about it.”
Her brow furrowed. “Are you doing okay?”
“Yeah. I’m good.”
I let out a slow breath, my hands steady.
Honestly, getting pushed out of the mafia was the best thing that could’ve happened to me. I’d spent so long trying to prove I deserved a place in the family that I didn’t realize how much the pressure had suffocated me. I wasn’t a weapon anymore, just a guy with nothing to prove except that he could build a life worth living.
College, maybe. A future that didn’t involve blood on my hands.
For now, though?
I crimped another pelmeni and smiled.
I was exactly where I needed to be.