Chapter 13 Luca
LUCA
I’m in the gym, working off the restless energy that is building to dangerous proportions.
Between Katerina’s inability to understand and forgive why I left and Alessandro’s constant suspicions, I’m nearing a breaking point.
I should tell them all to go to hell and return to Chicago.
The only reason I don’t skip town is Enzo, a kid I never knew existed until a few days ago and who is now front and center in my world.
And Katerina. Christ. Even cold as ice, I burn for her.
That woman has always been my one weakness, my addiction. I know she feels the electricity between us.
Every now and then, I catch her looking at me with an expression that is torn between desire and hate.
Fucking hell, it’s driving me insane.
But opposite of that is Alessandro who wants me gone. Adriano wants to kill me, although I don’t think it’s personal.
Something has broken in him, and he simply wants to kill anyone and everyone, except maybe Alessandro.
Valentina plays her own game of survival in this shit show of a family.
And somewhere in this house is a traitor feeding information to the Russians.
My phone buzzes. Chicago calling.
My other life demanding attention.
I silence it without looking. I have good men around me.
While I can’t leave them forever, I trust they can handle things a little bit longer.
The door of the gym bursts open. Instinct has me reaching for my gun until I see Katerina rush in, her eyes wild with panic.
"Luca, please!" Katerina's desperate voice makes my blood run cold.
“What’s wrong?”
"He's gone. Enzo's gone."
My stomach drops. "What do you mean, 'gone'?" Isn’t he supposed to be at school?
"Pyotr took him." Her voice cracks. "My own brother."
I grasp her shoulders, steadying her. "Slow down. Tell me exactly what happened."
Katerina draws a shaky breath. "Earlier today, Pyotr asked me to get him some files—Lorenzo's files. He was acting strange." Her eyes meet mine, raw with guilt. "I should have seen it coming. He's been different lately, secretive. I thought maybe he was using again, but this…"
My jaw tightens. Could he be the mole we’ve been looking for?
It would be a daring move and while Pyotr is no pushover, I don’t see him having balls big enough to go against the Dantes.
She thrusts her phone at me. I read the text from Pyotr.
Your loyalty has been questioned. The Bratva needs assurance. Bring the files to the warehouse by the pier at midnight. Come alone. Your son's safety depends on your obedience.
Cold fury floods my veins. "This motherfucker used our son as leverage?"
Tears stream down her face.
“He’s working against us,” I say, already moving to get dressed to save my son. "And now he thinks you'll turn too."
"I would never—" Her voice breaks as she follows me out of the gym and upstairs. "I've been loyal to the Dantes since I got here. More than loyal. This has been my home."
I turn to look at her, and her fear ratchets up my anger even as it breaks me a little.
All the bullshit in my life… her cool attitude, my family’s disdain… none of that matters right now.
All that matters is saving Enzo.
“We’ll get him back,” I say, continuing to my room.
"We need to tell Alessandro.” She follows me into my room.
"No. If an alarm goes out, Pyotr and whoever he’s working with will close ranks and put Enzo in more danger.” I shove off my gym clothes and grab dark jeans and a shirt. “We have no idea if there are others involved. We don't know who to trust."
"Luca, you have to help me get him back. I know I’ve been unkind to you, but right now, you're his best chance."
Her vulnerability guts me.
After everything, she's trusting me with the most precious thing in her life.
"I'd tear apart the whole city to find him," I tell her, meaning every word. "He's my blood."
Katerina's eyes glisten. “Please save him.”
I holster my gun, check my spare clip. “I will. I promise.” God, I hope that’s a promise I can keep. “Where would Pyotr be now?”
She shrugs. “I… I don’t know. All I have is to be at the warehouse at midnight. But he probably won’t be alone."
I look her dead in the eyes. "He and whoever he’s with had better pray to whatever god they believe in, because I'm coming for my son, and I'm not stopping until he's safe."
She nods and sniffs.
"I will bring him back to you.” I cup Katerina's face between my palms. "You have my word."
Her eyes search mine. "I believe you."
I load up with more essentials—another handgun, extra ammunition, a tactical knife, and a garrote wire.
Nothing that makes noise.
Nothing flashy.
This isn't about sending a message or making a statement.
It's extraction, pure and simple.
I’m not new to this type of operation, and yet, this feels completely different. Because this time, it isn’t about business.
It’s about my son. And if I fuck this up, it could cost us everything.
“I’m going out now, but it could be late if I have to wait for him to show at the warehouse.”
“Okay.”
"Stay here," I tell her. "If I'm not back with Enzo by dawn, call Alessandro."
She catches my arm. "Luca, there's something else you should know about my brother."
"What?"
"Don’t underestimate Pyotr. He seems weak, but it’s a facade. He’s as ruthless as any of you.”
I nod, tucking away this information.
It’s close to four thirty when I get to the warehouse, but I don’t see any sign of Pyotr or Enzo.
Next I check other Bratva haunts, keeping to the shadows so as not to tip off that I’m looking for them.
But all the locations, from restaurants to bars to the antique shop with fake antiques are empty.
I’m out all fucking evening with no sight of them.
As the clock approaches eleven, I’m back at the Morozova warehouse.
I park away and move like a ghost toward the property.
Why my father insisted on this tenuous partnership with the Bratva I’ll never know.
Perhaps it’s that adage of keeping your enemies closer.
But the Dantes and Morozovas have been circling each other like wolves for generations, neither willing to back down, both waiting for the other to show weakness.
Tonight, I don't care about any of it.
The blood feud, the business, the politics, it's all meaningless.
There's only Enzo now.
I scale the perimeter fence, dropping silently onto Morozova ground.
Three guards patrol the loading bay, their Russian murmurs carrying across the night air.
I watch them for a bit, getting a sense of their timing, waiting for the perfect moment to slip between their routes.
I pull my gun and take a breath.
Once the first body drops, the clock starts ticking. I start to move when a flash of movement catches my eye.
A fourth guard I hadn't spotted.
Fuck, that was sloppy.
It’s the kind of mistake that could get me killed. Enzo too.
I press myself against a shipping container, breathing controlled, as boots crunch past me.
The guard pauses, lighting a cigarette, his back to me. The flame illuminates his face for a brief second.
Not just any guard. Dimitri Volkov. The Pakhan’s nephew. I recognize him from years ago when I was allowed at briefings with my father, pre-exile.
His presence confirms this isn't just Pyotr going rogue.
This is sanctioned Bratva business.
Volkov moves on. I slip from shadow to shadow, making my way toward the side entrance where the security is lighter.
Just as I reach for the door, lights flood the compound.
Sirens wail. I've tripped something. A sensor, a tripwire, something I missed.
"Stop!" A voice shouts in heavily accented English. "We see you!"
So much for stealth.
I draw both weapons and kick through the door, rolling into cover as bullets tear through the air where I stood moments before.
Muscle memory takes over as I return fire, dropping two men before they can adjust their aim.
More shouts. Heavy footfalls.
I'm outnumbered, but my advantage is that they don’t know it’s just me.
For all they know, they’ve got the full force of the Dante Mafia descending on them.
I advance through the warehouse, taking down anyone in my path. These aren't clean kills, but they’re still effective.
"Luca Dante." The voice echoes through the space, and my blood turns to ice. Pyotr Petrov stands with Enzo in his grip.
"Let him go, Pyotr. This is between us."
He laughs. "There is no 'between us'. There is only what the Bratva demands. And the Bratva demands the Dante family on their knees."
“Daddy?”
God, the sound of his little voice, so scared, cracks me open. “It’s okay, Enzo.”
“Daddy?” Pyotr looks down at Enzo and then laughs. “I should have fucking known. This just keeps getting better.”
Fuck. Just what I need. Enzo has become a prize simply for being the son of a Dante.
“Only a weak fucking pussy would use a child,” I growl out.
“Big words toward the person who could kill this child right here and now.”
“I don’t want to die.” Enzo’s voice breaks with fear.
White-hot rage floods my system. I raise my gun, but Pyotr jerks Enzo closer, using him as a shield.
"Careful, Dante. You wouldn't want to hit your precious bastard."
"Let him go," I growl, "and I'll consider letting you walk out of here."
His laughter turns my stomach. "You're not in a position to offer terms."
Three more Bratva soldiers emerge from the shadows, weapons trained on me. I'm cornered, outgunned.
But they've made one critical mistake. They've threatened my son and underestimated me.
I move before conscious thought takes over, unleashing a hail storm of bullets that drops the closest men. Their bodies hit the floor as I dive for new cover, reloading in a single fluid motion.
Pyotr drags Enzo toward a rear exit, firing wildly in my direction. A bullet zings my shoulder.
I ignore it, pushing forward, my world narrowed to a single goal. Save my son.
When I exit the door, Pyotr turns quickly, holding Enzo up in front of him. “Don’t make me kill him, Luca. I will.”
“I always knew you were a pussy. What would Morozova think seeing you hide behind a child like a coward? You’re a disgrace to the Bratva.”
“Shut the fuck up.” The confidence he had a moment ago is gone. He knows the tide is turning.
He knows he’s a dead man.
But nervous men are more dangerous than confident ones.
They’re jittery. Impulsive.
“Just hand over the boy and my job here will be done.”
“You’re lying.”
Yes. I am. I move closer.
“I’m not kidding, Luca.” Pyotr holds a gun to Enzo’s head.
I suck in a breath, calculating whether I can hit him between the eyes before he can pull that trigger.
“I want down.” Enzo thrashes, the heel of his foot kicking back into Pyotr’s dick.
“Fuck!” Pyotr drops Enzo.
I squeeze the trigger one final time.
The bullet finds its mark between Pyotr's eyes, his expression frozen in surprise as he crumples to the ground.
The gun that had been pressed to Enzo's head clatters across the concrete.
Behind me, the door opens, and I quickly turn, firing again, dropping another Bratva soldier.
“Enzo. Come on, Son. We need to go.”
I turn to him, reaching out my hand, but he’s frozen, his eyes wide with horror.
His uncle's blood has splattered across his cheek and clothes.
His small chest rises and falls in rapid, shallow breaths. He's in shock.
"Enzo." I keep my voice gentle as I approach.
I want to holster my weapon, but I don’t know who else is still here or who might show up before we get the hell out. “It's over now. You're safe."
His gaze snaps to mine, and the raw fear there stops me cold.
Not fear of the bodies or the blood.
It’s fear of me.
Of the man who just executed his uncle in front of him.
I take a careful step forward, hand outstretched. "I know you're scared. But I'm going to take you home to your mom."
He flinches away. I drop to one knee, trying to make myself smaller, less threatening.
"Your mom sent me to find you," I explain. "She's waiting for you." The last thing I want to do is grab him and haul him out of there, but I might have to if he doesn’t come on his own accord.
His voice is barely a whisper. "You killed Uncle Pyotr."
"I did. To protect you."
“He said he’d kill me.” Enzo's eyes flick to the bodies, then back to me. "Are you going to hurt me too?"
The question breaks something inside me. "No, Enzo. Never. I would never hurt you." I reach out my hand again, palm up. "I'm your father, Enzo. And I know this is a new situation for us, but I love you and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
He stares at my outstretched hand, his small face a battlefield of confusion and fear.
Behind him, I hear shouts in Russian.
More Bratva are coming.
We have seconds, not minutes.
"We need to go," I urge. "Your mom is worried sick."
Enzo's eyes dart toward the warehouse door, then back to my hand. I can see the tug-of-war in his eyes, trying to decide whether he can trust me.
"Please. Enzo. We have to go.”
The moment stretches into eternity, and still, Enzo hesitates, caught between reaching for me and running away as Bratva voices draw closer.