Chapter 15 Luca
Luca
The first mistake Serge made was thinking Luca wouldn’t be ready. The second was thinking he was without backup. He always kept a small army of his men at his disposal—especially now with his new wife.
Luca was halfway through a call in his office when the first shot rang out. His head snapped toward the window, his body already moving before the second shot followed—closer this time. It wasn’t random gunfire. It was too coordinated to be that.
“Boss—” Dante’s voice cut through the comm.
“I hear it,” Luca said. He ended the call without another word and grabbed his gun from the desk.
“Where is this asshole?” he asked.
“There is an east side breach attempt. We’ve taken two men down already, but they’re pushing hard,” Dante explained. Of course they were, because this wasn’t a test. This was a grab at power, and there was only one thing in this house worth risking that kind of move for—Isabella.
Luca was already out the door. “Lock the house down,” he ordered as he moved down the hall. “No one in or out.”
“Already set in motion, boss,” Dante said.
His jaw tightened as he reached the stairs. “Where is she?”
“In her room,” Dante said, trying to keep up with him.
“Keep her there,” Luca ordered.
“You’re not going to like this, boss,” Dante said. Luca slowed, but just barely.
“What exactly am I not going to like, Dante?” he asked.
“Serge is here,” Dante breathed, stopping Luca in his tracks. Everything in him went still for half a second until he could calm his racing heart.
“Has that information been confirmed?” Luca asked.
“He’s not hiding,” Dante said. “We have him on just about every camera in the house. It’s definitely him.” Of course, he wasn’t hiding from Luca. Serge Romano didn’t do subtle. He made grand statements. And his breaking into Luca’s house was one hell of a statement.
Luca’s grip tightened on the gun as he reached the main floor. “Open the front,” he said.
Dante hesitated. “Boss—”
“Open it,” he shouted. He didn’t have time to waste, because if Serge wanted to walk into Luca Camorra’s house, Luca was going to let him. And then he was going to make sure he never walked back out.
The front doors opened slowly as Luca stepped out onto the stone landing like he owned the ground beneath it—because he did.
Smoke still hung in the air where two bodies were already down near the gate.
His men had done their job, but Serge stood just beyond them—unbothered.
It was as though his men’s blood on the ground didn’t mean a damn thing.
Luca looked him over. Serge was tall, clean-cut, and his cold, blue eyes looked as though they could cut right through someone.
And behind him were more men than he should’ve brought, but not enough to win.
They were enough to make noise, but that was about it.
If Luca had his way, they’d all be dead before they knew what had happened to them.
Luca stepped forward. “You’re a long way from where you should be,” Luca said.
Serge smiled faintly. “You took something that wasn’t yours.” There it was with no pretense. He knew that Serge wasn’t there to negotiate with him—not for Isabella. This fight was going to be winner takes all, and that worked for Luca.
Luca’s mouth curved slightly. Serge was playing a dangerous game. “You mean my wife?” Serge’s expression didn’t change, but his men shifted around him.
“You think a piece of paper changes anything?” Serge asked.
“No,” Luca said.
“Well, I do,” Serge said. Silence hit hard between them. Serge tilted his head slightly. “She was promised to someone,” he said. “But you already knew that didn’t you?”
Luca stepped down one more step, so that he was standing closer now. “I know what her father tried to do.”
“Then you understand,” Serge continued. “This isn’t personal.”
Luca laughed, which was apparently the wrong reaction, because nothing about this was impersonal anymore. “You showed up at my house,” Luca said, his voice dropping. “After I claimed her. After I married her. You made it personal.”
Serge’s eyes hardened slightly. “She’s still a Romano.”
“No,” Luca said. “She’s not.”
“She belongs to the Romano family,” Serge insisted. “She belongs to me.” Serge exhaled slowly, like he was done talking. “Last chance,” he said. “Hand her over, and this ends clean.”
Luca didn’t even blink. “No,” he breathed. He was finished discussing this also. Isabella was his—end of story.
Serge nodded like he expected his answer.
“Take the house,” he said to his men, and that’s when everything exploded around them.
Gunfire ripped through the air as Serge’s men surged forward.
Luca moved instantly, taking down first one, then the second of Serge’s guards.
Luca’s men responded just as fast, as bullets tore through the front line before they even made it halfway up the drive.
This wasn’t a breach. This was a slaughter—but that was Serge’s mistake.
Luca advanced instead of retreating, pushing into the chaos like he was built for it—because he was.
A man rushed him from the right, and Luca turned, fired, and dropped him.
Another from the left took his shot at Luca with a knife and was blocked by Dante, allowing Luca to get a shot off and kill the guy.
“You good?” Luca asked Dante.
He looked at his forearm and nodded. “Yeah, just a flesh wound.”
“Push them back!” Luca barked. He knew that it wouldn’t take very long to do that. They were already breaking, because Serge hadn’t come to win. He’d come to prove something, and now he had.
Luca caught sight of him retreating—slow, controlled, and not panicked. Serge was still watching him. Luca fired once more, forcing him further back, but not killing him—not yet, because this wasn’t finished. It wasn’t even close to being finished.
Serge stopped just beyond the gate, raising his voice just enough to carry through the night air. “This isn’t over, Luca!”
Luca lowered his gun slightly. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.” Serge’s gaze flicked toward the house—toward the second-floor windows where Isabella was. Luca wanted to take the fucker’s eyes for looking at his wife, but that would have to wait.
“You can’t keep her locked away forever,” Serge called.
Luca’s expression didn’t change. “Don’t have to. I have the manpower to keep her safe anywhere.”
“She chose wrong,” Serge said.
Luca’s jaw tightened. “No,” he said, low and deadly. “She didn’t.”
Serge held his gaze for one more second and then turned and walked away, taking what was left of his men with him. Silence followed, but Luca knew that was only temporary. Because now, a war had started.
Luca stood there for a second longer, scanning the perimeter, making sure it was clean, and then turned to go back inside. He found her exactly where she shouldn’t have been—halfway down the hall, not in her room. She was watching and waiting for news.
His jaw tightened immediately. “I told you to stay upstairs.”
“I heard gunfire.” Her voice wasn’t panicked. In fact, it was steady—too steady. Luca closed the distance between them fast, his hand gripping her arm—not rough, but firm enough to make a point.
“You don’t come out here when that happens.” Her eyes lifted to his, unafraid. “If you hear gunfire, you stay in the fucking room until I come to tell you that it’s all clear.
“It was him, wasn’t it?” she asked, not really listening to him.
Luca wouldn’t lie to her. “Yeah.”
Her jaw tightened. “Serge.”
“Yes,” he said again.
“He’s not going to stop,” she said. No, he wasn’t going to stop. Serge’s life was in danger until he delivered her to the Russians. He wouldn’t stop coming for her because doing so would cost him his life.
Luca’s grip shifted slightly, his hand sliding from her arm to her jaw, forcing her to look at him fully. “I’m not going to stop either, honey.”
Her breath hitched. “He came for me.”
“Yes,” Luca said.
“And next time—” she started.
“There won’t be a next time like that,” Luca cut in. He meant it too, because next time Luca wouldn’t be waiting. He wouldn’t be reacting, either. He’d be hunting, and Serge wouldn’t get away from him again.
Her gaze searched his as though looking for something.
Maybe fear or doubt, but she wouldn’t find either.
“Good,” she said. There was no hesitation or second-guessing—just acceptance.
She was accepting him, and his world, and what was coming for them all.
Luca’s thumb brushed once along her jaw before he dropped his hand.
“Go back to our room,” he said. This time, she didn’t argue.
Isabella didn’t push him for answers, and she didn’t test him.
Instead, she turned and walked back upstairs, following his orders.
Luca stood there for a second longer, watching her go, and then turned back toward the front of the house, to where the blood and bodies lay.
He turned back to the war that Serge had just started.
And this time, Luca wasn’t waiting for them to come to him.
He was going to take the war to the Romano family, and he was going to end it.