1. Luca
Chapter 1
Luca
O ne Year Later
The worst part of winter? Blood drying on your sweaty skin.
I was unfazed by the body fluid, but washing it off was a hassle I’d rather not inconvenience myself to.
Thank “I don’t have all day.” I caressed the side of Rocco’s face with the tip of my knife. “What happened to the shipment?”
He coughed up blood, saliva mixed with it as it dripped down his chin. I waited for the remorse to hit, but it never did.
And it never would when I barely held more than superficial relationships with everyone outside of my circle.
I leaned down, resting my hands on my knees. “Do you want me to prolong your suffering?” I gestured to his mangled body and the damage I had already created. “ Perhaps if you answer my question, you can leave here without further. . . consequences.”
“I don’t know anything!”
“Oh, but you do,” I retorted.
When I got the call from Roman this morning that the drug shipment hadn’t been received by the Russian Mafia, I knew we were fucked.
I had always been particular about the process of when, where, and how shipments were sent out to avoid any possible obstacles.
Yet, here I was, interrogating one of our men on the location of the goods because I hadn’t been at the exchange myself.
I couldn’t trust anyone, never had and never would, but I slipped up, and it wouldn’t happen again.
“I have a family.” Rocco groaned in pain—probably from the crimson color leaking from the side of his ribs. “Please, Luca.”
I straightened myself, sighing. Every single interrogation ended the same exact way. The traitor begging for their life because of their family. The same family they didn’t think of when betraying their Don, knowing we would find them and dish out their punishment.
A punishment that sent them on their way to God.
“Prolong suffering it is, then.” I reached for him but stopped short when he spoke.
“Wait!” He was visibly shaking now, teeth chattering as if we were in the middle of a fucking blizzard. “Th-they gave a m-message.”
I kept my expression neutral to the bit of knowledge he shared. “Who? ”
“I d-don’t know,” he gritted out. “Their f-face was covered.”
“What was the message?”
“ Y-you’re out of t-time.”
Clarity shifted the situation. There was only one person who’d been hellbent on time and position when it came to me.
“That wasn’t so hard, now was it, Rocco?”
His brown eyes widened with hope, a feeling that would drift away as soon as it rooted. “N—”
In one fluid motion, I flicked my wrist, the end of my knife sliding along his throat.
His eyes widened further; except this time, it was from fear, choking on his own blood. The seamless line widened as blood gushed down the column of his neck.
It took less than a minute for the sound of his gurgling to cease.
The dreaded part of killing someone was the aftermath of having to clean up the bloody mess.
It was a tedious process I had done countless times. I often wondered how it was so easy to get away with murder and hide the body as if it never existed.
Grabbing the cigarette pack from my jean pocket, I took a stick out before pulling out my phone and dialing Nicolai’s number.
“Good morning, Luca,” he answered.
The little shit had become a soft spot for everyone since Roman saved him years ago.
“Must you always answer formally, Nico?” I chuckled. I swear, the kid was an old soul trapped in a body of a twenty—two year-old .
“I think the term you’re searching for is respectfully, not formally.” I could practically picture him pushing up his glasses with the tip of his middle finger. “You and the others lack basic manners.”
“And you lack the understanding of when to shut up, but here we are.”
“My apologies,” he drawled snidely, his snickering coming through the line.
As I said before, I had a soft spot for the little shit.
“I need you to come down to the Fort and cleanup for me.” I lit the tip and inhaled a drag of smoke. “I have somewhere to be.”
I didn’t need to say what the cleanup was because, as young as Nico was, he was far more intelligent and lethal than most of our men. This wasn’t his first time getting his hands dirty, either.
“Can’t you call Ric? I’m busy.”
“Busy with your nose buried in some book. I’m sure Shakespeare will still be there when you finish your task.”
“Maybe if you picked up a hobby such as reading, you’d get rid of your morbid one.”
I barked a laugh. He had one hell of a sense of humor. “Killing isn’t morbid, it’s art. Now, get your ass here.”
With that, I hung up and made my way to my bike.
The Fort was in a discreet and secluded part of the city, hard to find and longer to reach. A good hideaway destination from outsiders.
Roman had connections with higher authorities to turn a blind eye to our business, but that didn’t guarantee our immunity.
Crushing the cigarette beneath my boot, I climbed atop my black Harley-Davidson and fastened my helmet before reviving the bike to life.
The drive to my next destination would give me time to cool down my temper.
Did he think I was stupid? If it wasn’t obvious before on who sabotaged the plan, it was when Rocco told me of the threat he was given.
Winters in Italy were a charmer, the lively atmosphere was contagious to a fault, and it never surprised me when tourists roamed through the country during this time of year.
I breezed through the streets until the view of the mansion peeked through the trees, greenery surrounding the ostentatious architecture.
I neared the property, the gates immediately opening for me, and inviting me to my own personal hell.
Riding past the fountain path that led to the front of the house, I parked my bike in the roundabout and cut the engine.
“Luca!”
The sweet voice of my baby sister drifted through the air.
I swear to fuck she had a sixth sense that told her whenever I set foot on the premise.
Before I had a chance to hop off, she tackled me, crushing me into her delicate form.
“When did you get so strong, Eva?” I joked, wrapping my arms around her.
Her hold became firmer, along with the guilt that gnawed at me.
My sister and I had fifteen years between us. One of us heir to the Changretta and the other a Mafia princess waiting to be wed to the most suitable bachelor. An absolute travesty.
I wasn’t around anymore as much as I used to be, and I knew Eva loathed me a fraction for it. It didn’t matter that she knew our father was the reason why. In her eyes, it was as if I abandoned her.
I ruffled her sandy-brown hair affectionately. “Forgive your asshole of a brother. He’s trying.”
She loosened her hold and stepped back, hurt evident in her green eyes as she stared at me. “Are you here to stay?”
I pursed my lips. She knew I would never come back willingly, yet she asked anyway. Every. Single. Time.
Before I had a chance to spew the same reply I always did, she turned on her heel and walked away.
Usually, I’d go after her, but I had to deal with the menace of a human—our father—first.
I walked up the steps to the arched double doors and pushed them open.
The moment I stepped foot inside, I stilled. The house had kept its distinct smell. Even though that smell belonged to my dead mother, who’d been gone for years.
The urge to turn back and never set foot in this cursed house again was intense. Instead, I closed the door and walked through the foyer to the hall on the left.
I knew security was watching my movements as I maneuvered through the house, alert and ready to tame me if I acted out. Not that they’d get to lay a finger on me before I snapped their necks.
My father wished he could see that part of me, only to remind me how alike we were—ruthless and unapologetic. A monster.
He was wrong. In every sense of that word, he was.
I would’ve never killed my wife like he had.
As I neared the waxed oak door to his office, I picked up my pace. The sooner I talked to him, the faster I could leave.
I walked in without knocking, sat my ass on one of the black leather chairs, and put my feet up on his desk.
If the old man was triggered by my actions, he hid it skillfully.
Zeno Canaveri was one of a kind, truly. With a thirst for violence, it wasn’t surprising why the fucker always had security with him. The minute he was alone, his head would be on a stick.
Even now, a burly man occupied one corner of the well-furnished room, staring at me as if I stole his favorite toy.
“Leave,” I ordered him.
The man gaped at my father, who was more focused on the paperwork in front of him.
“Don’t look at him, look at me.” His thick neck moved as he swallowed before he settled his attention back to me. I nudged my head to the side. “Get the fuck out and close the door.”
That’s the irony of respect. It’s not earned by being civil. No, it’s by asserting your power and getting rid of anyone who questions it.
Everyone in this manor knew exactly what kind of fucker I was. They could all appear unfazed, but we all knew they ate from the palms of my hands like dogs .
When the door clicked shut, I relaxed further into the chair.
“You’re in no position to order my employees.”
My father finally looked up; his hazel eyes boring into me.
I could deny any internal similarities between us, but the physical traits were always there to remind me exactly whose son I was.
“And you’re in no position to sabotage my operations, Father .”
“ Yours?” he enunciated by widening his eyes. “Nothing is yours, boy.”
I gritted my teeth, knowing exactly the direction this conversation was taking.
“You could have all of this.” He raised his arms, gesturing around himself. “Yet you choose to work for Roman as if you aren’t a Canaveri.”
My lips spread into a smile as I regarded the man in front of me. “And I bet that drives you insane, doesn’t it? Knowing I’d rather associate myself with the Cosa Nostra instead of the Camorra.”
His eye twitched, a tell that it did in fact drive him crazy that I willingly chose another over my family, and he couldn’t do anything about it.
The Cosa Nostra was held in the highest regards when it came to the Italian Mafia and no one questioned Roman, not even my father.
“Continue your futile attempts at getting me back and Roman might overlook that you’re my father.”
He slammed his fist on the desk, the sound echoing around us. “You are my heir! You will take your rightful position as the leader of the Camorra. I won’t let our legacy die because of you, boy.”
His words fell on deaf ears. I had heard them before, and it became less and less effective over the years.
Setting my feet down on the marble floor, I stood. “For that to happen, you’d have to die first. And I long for that day, father.”
I was halfway across the room when his voice reached me.
“Think long and hard about the decision you’re making. Perhaps you’ve forgotten how valuable little Eva’s position is as my daughter.”
I clenched my fists, sensing that constant anger inside of me bubbling to the surface.
He was waiting for my reaction, and I wouldn’t—
“The offers have been tempting. They prefer their brides young and—”
It was a reflex. You talk about my sister in a disgusting manner, and I’m a madman seeing red.
I felt my knuckles tear as I pounded into my father’s face, the adrenaline of having him at my mercy exhilarating.
He didn’t fight back, only gave me a bloodied smile. “You’re exactly like me.”
“I’m nothing like you,” I seethed as I raised my fist.
“Luca! Luca, stop it!”
The sound of Eva’s voice filtered through my murderous thoughts, halting my movements.
I peered over my shoulder and found her face blotchy as tears clung to her cheeks .
“Luca,” she whispered, her voice shaking along with her small frame. “Please, can we just go?”
My chest burned from breathing harshly as I came down from my high.
I turned and grabbed my father by the collar. “Use my sister to threaten me again and I’ll cut out your fucking tongue.”
He didn’t say anything as I released him, grabbed Eva, and walked out of the office.
“What offers?” Eva asked as I continued walking down the hall.
I ignored her, irritated that she’d been eavesdropping. It didn’t matter what our father said, I would never let her be wed to anyone from our world.
When I reached the main door, I stopped short and closed my eyes.
This was never easy, and I wished I could take her with me, but if she was with me, she’d be a liability, a weakness that many people would use against me. I couldn’t risk putting her in danger.
At least if she stayed at this house with our father, I knew she would be thoroughly guarded by security. And as a one man show, that wasn’t something I could provide her right now.
“You’re leaving?” she asked, her voice breaking. “After that?”
I nodded. Despite our father’s tasteless ways, no harm had come to Eva since I’d left.
“I hate you.”
Three words that had me turning to face her .
Her tears were flowing freely now as she regarded me with an expression that gutted me.
“Eva. . . ”
“I do.” She nodded furiously. “But don’t worry, once I’m sold off like a whore, I won’t be a burden to you anymore.”
“Don’t you dare, Evangeline! Everything I do is for you.” The burn in my chest came back tenfold. “And how many times do I have to tell you to stop eavesdropping?”
Her lip trembled, pouting slightly like it used to when she was a small child.
I raked through my hair, frustrated that I couldn’t give her what she wanted.
“Come here.” I gestured to her with my hand, but she shook her head, her eyes blinking rapidly to get rid of her tears.
Stepping forward, I wrapped my arms around her, and she sobbed into my chest.
It hurt knowing I was partially to blame for her distress. I wished things were different for her. And I’d make sure it was. Soon.
“Hey. . . hey,” I cooed, pulling back and cupping her face. “I’m going to do right by you.”
She sniffled. “How?”
“Don’t worry about that.” I gave her a small smile to put her at ease.
I knew what I had to do, and I hated it.
“Now, wipe those tears. I can see your snot.”
She laughed as more tears fell from her eyes before she hugged me. “I didn’t mean it, you know?”
“I know.”