33
Luna
Being robbed of sight while the whole world falls apart around your ears is about the highest form of torture.
I can’t remember the last time I prayed so hard, every gunshot resounding like a hammer blow inside my skull.
Every thought constricts into one: Cade is out there fighting to protect me. If he gets hurt—if he died—what would I do?
All of a sudden, the gunfire stops. The silence that follows feels like the eerie calm after a storm, broken only by the crystalline tinkle of settling glass and my own ragged breathing.
My ears are ringing, and all I can hear now are boots crunching over gravel, back and forth, each step ending with a grunt. It’s Cade. It has to be.
The alternative makes my stomach twist into knots.
“Cade?” My voice comes out small and broken by panic.
Nothing.
“Saint, can you get up?”
The dog doesn’t move a muscle. Awesome.
I lie, trapped on the floor of the truck straining to hear anything over the pounding in my ears.
I swallow hard, forcing my racing heart to steady as the crunch of gravel grows louder. Closer. A grunt then shallow ones. Is he hurt?
Just when I’m about to scream at the big lug pinning me down, the back door swings open.
I freeze.
“At ease, mate.” Cade’s voice, strained and clipped is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
Saint immediately lifts himself off me, his massive body climbing onto the leather seat then bounds out of the truck
I release a shaky, pent-up breath as tears slip onto the dark carpet. I didn’t even realize I was crying until now.
Cade is alive.
With Saint’s weight gone, I pull myself to my knees and then onto the glass-covered seat.
Through my tears, I see Cade standing with his arm around Saint. The dog’s risen on his hind legs, paws resting on Cade’s chest in a hug. Cade murmurs soft praises about how good he’s been, and something about that tenderness—this killer gentling his war dog—makes my throat close up.
I bite back a sob as I crawl out of the car. My legs shake like they might give out, but I force myself upright. Every cell in my body screams to close the distance between us, to feel him—solid and real and alive—against me.
“Cade . . .” His name catches in my throat.
He turns, and the look he gives me steals my breath. There’s something raw in his eyes, something that makes me want to shatter in his arms.
But then he winces as his gaze rakes over me, and that moment of vulnerability vanishes.
“Are you okay?” His voice is flat and cold, nothing like the warmth when he checked on me during the shootout.
“I—yeah, I’m good.” I manage a nod.
“Sweet.” The detachment in his tone hits like ice water.
I open my mouth to say more when Saint drops to all fours, and that’s when I see the blood soaking Cade’s arm and side, so much blood. Horror twists my gut at the sight.
“Oh my God, Cade, you’re bleeding!” I reach for him without thinking, hands going to his wounds. He’s hurt. He’s hurt because of me.
But he pushes me back, his expression hardening to stone. “Not now. Get in the car.”
“Cade, please—”
“Get. In. The. Car. Luciana.”
His voice hits me like a blade, freezing me in place. The man who kissed me breathless earlier, who made me feel things I can’t name, has vanished. In his place stands the cold and ruthless Cade Quinn.
I swallow the rejection and stumble back to the truck, hands trembling as I slide into my seat. My racing heart pounds out the truth with every beat: he’s hurt.
Cade clicks his teeth for Saint, and the truck dips as the dog bounds into the back.
I glance over my shoulder and see two motorcycles neatly parked on the road shoulder, but no bodies. Cade’s taken care of those.
I shiver, turning back to face the front as Cade slides into the driver’s seat, his jaw clenched tight, tension radiating off him in waves.
He doesn’t start the car. Just sits there, his knuckles white as he grips the wheel. The silence stretches and I brace myself against what I know is coming.
Finally, he turns to me, his voice deadly soft. “You want to tell me what the fuck you did this morning?”
My fingers find my rune pendant as I push words past the lump in my throat. “Nothing. I swear. Well, I only sent my friend—an email.”
He smiles coldly, and that hurts worse than if he’d yelled. “Email. Of course. Had to update your status while on a road trip with a psycho.”
His tone raises my hackles even as guilt churns in my stomach. “Look, I know I messed up.”
“You lied to me.”
In that quiet tone he might as well have accused me of shooting him for how it makes me feel.
“Maybe I wasn’t, I-I wasn’t completely open—”
“No, Luciana. I gave you a chance to come clean this morning. You looked into my face and lied.”
“I was scared, alright!” My voice cracks as the truth finally spills out. “I had no idea where you were taking me.”
Furious green eyes pin me to the spot. “I told you where I was taking you last night.”
“And then you broke a couple of necks over breakfast!” The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them.
Something unreadable flickers in his gaze, like a shadow passing behind green ice. “So, when I asked you how you felt half an hour ago. I take it everything you said to me was bullshit.”
“No, Cade. I swear I meant it. Every word.”
He shoots me a look that tells me what he thinks about that, then glances away as if he can’t stand the sight of me.
Tea rs clog my throat. “Cade, please. Can you not understand it’s not that simple?”
“What, being honest about how you feel isn’t simple?”
“Yes! As much as I lo—” I clamp my mouth shut in horror, take a breath and try again. “That I want you doesn’t mean you don’t terrify me.”
What the actual fuck, Luna? Love? Are you insane? It must be because he almost died. It has to be.
His eyes bore into me, neither hot nor cold—just seeing straight through to my soul until I have to look away.
“It’s off,” I blurt, desperate to fill the crushing silence. “The phone. I only used it twice.”
“You think that matters? Your email is a beacon in the dark for anyone tracking you!”
I reach for my rune again, feeling about two inches tall. The familiar edges that usually ground me now feel like tiny knives of accusation. God, I should have known it wasn’t safe.
His tone gentles. “For fuck’s sake, Luciana, how many men do I have to kill before you understand you’re a wanted woman?”
My eyes close as fresh tears fall in hot trails down my cheeks that I can’t wipe away because my hands won’t stop shaking. I killed every one of those men. Hector. The Spaniards. These cyclists . . . Cade was just the weapon.
“What do you think this is?” He gestures between us.
My heart stutters because that’s one question I have no answer to.
When I remain silent, he sighs, “If you needed to contact someone, you could have asked for my phone. It’s untraceable.”
“I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not?”
Gui lt claws at my insides, but I can’t lie to him. Not anymore. “Because,” I whisper, “I was letting someone know where I was in case . . .” I can’t finish. Don’t need to.
He arches a brow, smiling coldly. “I see. Well, princess, you got me there. I was going to kill you, eventually. Just needed to fuck up my life a little bit before snapping your gorgeous neck.”
His sarcasm breaks through the fog of guilt and my spine stiffens. “I get it, okay? Look, I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. You’ve risked everything to keep me safe, and now you’ve been shot.” I gesture at his blood-soaked side. “Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”
“Like crap, I hope.”
Two warring impulses surge through me—the desperate need to throw myself at his feet and beg his forgiveness, and an equally powerful urge to smack that self-righteous look off his face. “Don’t be a dickhead, Cade.”
His gaze swings to mine with a blast of scorching heat. A muscle ticks in his jaw and I can practically see him clamp down on his cutting retort. He turns the ignition with more force than necessary and guns the engine.
I realize he’s letting me have the last word. And I don’t care to examine why I hate it. Instead, I grab his blood-soaked arm. “Cade, stop, please. You’re bleeding really badly. Let me help.”
“I’ll be fine. We should leave before the cops show.”
“Let them come! We’ll flash your badge!”
He smirks. “That’s not the way it works. I’ll sort out the wound later, don’t worry.”
“You’ll sort it out now!” I grab the end of my top and start ripping it into a bandage.
“For fuck’s sake!” Cade hits the brakes, pulls of the road, and glares. “Fine! Get the first aid kit under the backseat.”
I r oll my eyes. “So you had bandages, but you’d rather bleed out than ask me for help.”
I reach under the seat until my fingers find a heavy-duty case. By the time I pull it out, Cade has peeled off his shirt. The copper smell of blood fills the truck as I suck in a shocked breath.
His right side, a canvas of muscle and ink, is now marred by a deep, angry gash pouring with blood. His shoulder is also torn, but the bleeding from there is less.
More scars to add to his collection—scars he wouldn’t have if I’d just been honest.
“What, admiring the bullet work?” His voice is rough with pain and something darker.
I swallow, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. “You’re going to need a hospital.”
He barks out a laugh. “What I need is to get us out before your fan club sends backup. Just slap on the QuikClot and let’s move.”
“The what?”
“In the box.”
I pull out an olive-drab package labeled ‘QuikClot Combat Gauze’ with military insignias. The antiseptic smell hits as I tear it open.
“This isn’t normal gauze,” I mutter, unrolling the textured fabric. “Are you sure? That gash will need stitches.”
He grunts, pain tightening his eyes. “Trust me. Just apply pressure.”
I place the gauze over his wound, biting my lip.
“Harder,” he instructs through gritted teeth.
I fight the tears, knowing I’m hurting him, and press down. The white gauze darken. “How long?”
“Two minutes. Then wrap it tight.”
The bleeding stops so fast it’s startling. “This is incredible,” I whisper, fingers trembling as I secure the bandage. “What about your arm?”
“It’s just a scratch. Leave it.”
“And the pain? Don’t you want something for it?”
Cade goes still, his eyes locking onto mine, dark and intense. His anger and my guilt melt away, leaving the awareness that always crackles between us.
“The pain?” Cade rumbles. “Sure. I’ll need something to ease the pain, princess. A lot of it.”
My body responds instantly to his sensual command, arousal flooding me so fast my cheeks flame crimson. The blush spreads down my neck as I look away, but not before catching his satisfied smirk.
“Get your mind out of the gutter. I meant the truth. It’s time you started being honest with me.”
“I already told you about the email.”
His finger tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Not that.”
He’s waiting for something deeper—the answer to the question he’s been asking all along.
Why does my family keep trying to sell me off? Why shuffle me around like a commodity when they could marry me into the Bratva or another power player? Why am I a pawn in a game that makes no sense?
The real answer rises in my throat: Maman.
She did everything right. She fought. She had it all taken away: breasts, womb, thyroid, bowels. She went through every surgery, every treatment, and still lost. I can still see the pain in her eyes, how her hands trembled reaching for me, trying to hide the worst of it. That fear in her eyes haunts my dreams.
What if that’s my future?
Cad e watches me, waiting. After everything he’s shared with me, I still can’t say it. Can’t let him see my own truth.
I force the words back down, burying the fear where it belongs.
I don’t owe Cade this. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Instead, I offer a different truth. “I don’t get periods. I’m on the pill. That’s what I needed from the store—pills, not tampons. And this.”
My hands shake as I unzip my boot and pull out the phone where I hid it. My stupid attempt at regaining control that caused all this chaos. I hold it out, unable to meet his eyes.
Cade hesitates before taking it. “Thank you.” It sounds hollow—or maybe that’s just my guilt in knowing it’s not the truth he needs.
He steps out and destroys the phone in one brutal motion. Then he’s back, starting the car like nothing happened.
We drive in silence for an hour, tension building until Cade’s phone breaks through. He connects it to the pick-up’s Bluetooth with a grimace.
“What is it, Dumb?” he snaps.
“Quinn.” The deep baritone sounds grouchy and . . . vaguely familiar. “Want to tell me what the fuck I’m doing here? Phoenix is ready to skin Sophie alive for not bringing the twins.”
My ears sit up at the mention of Sophie . . . Is that who I think it is?
Cade snorts. “Why didn’t you bring them?”
“Because you’re a deranged son of a bitch, that’s why.”
Cade chuckles darkly. “I don’t see what one has to do with the other, but I’ll fucking take the blame. Stay put, she’ll be there soon.”
“She?”
“Your next business ally.”
Dea dly silence, then, “I swear to God, Quinn, if you dragged me out here for another distressed damsel, I’ll make you beg for death.”
“You’ll wait, Vitelli.” Cade ends the call.
I’m aware my eyelids are blinking comically fast, but I can’t help it. “Was that . . . Don Vitelli? For real?”
Cade nods. “He’s already in Harmony. As you heard, he’s chomping at the bits to meet you.”
My mouth falls open. “What? Oh my God, Cade, how did you pull it off? I thought . . . you said that he would never listen—”
“Nico Vitelli owes me a few hundred favors. And he’s married to my sister. He’ll do as I say if he wants to keep his balls.”
My voice is barely a whisper as tears blur my vision again. “When . . . when did you arrange this?”
“While you were busy buying tampons.”
The words hit me square in the chest, and the floodgates open again. I can’t believe that while I was busy lying to him, he was making my dreams come true.
I hate you, Cade Quinn, for doing this to me.
His fingers suddenly tangle in my hair and his grip tightens. “Save the tears for later, baby,” he growls, his voice dark with promise. “When I spank and fuck you raw for what you did.”
His rough timbre hits me straight between my legs. My lids flutter closed as my thighs clench with raw need. But it’s the insidious warmth spreading beneath my ribs and flowing out into every part of me that terrifies me most.
Of all the dangers I’ve faced, this is the most deadly.