Luca
Dante didn’t hesitate. “He’s regrouping at a shipping yard off the river, down by the old import hub. The Russians have used it before, so it makes sense.”
“You move fast, you risk missing pieces of the puzzle,” Dante added. “You wait, and they’ll dig in.”
Dante nodded. “Then we go after the bastards and take them by surprise.”
Dante’s mouth curved slightly. “Figured,” he breathed. “You want her locked down?”
Luca’s gaze flicked to the stairs that led up to their bedroom. It was almost like he could feel her down the hall. “Yes.” He didn’t hesitate to make that decision because this wasn’t a place for her. He didn’t want her in the middle of what he was about to do.
Dante nodded and turned to leave. “Dante,” Luca called.
He stopped but didn’t turn back. “Yeah?”
“I want no survivors left on the Romano’s side.”
“Understood,” Dante agreed. The door shut, and just like that, everything was set in place. He was going to end this war, one way or another. It was the only way that he’d be able to keep Isabella safe, and she was his top priority now.
Luca found her exactly where he expected—in the master bedroom. She wasn’t pacing the room, but just standing at the window again. He couldn’t tell if she was watching the commotion downstairs or thinking.
He stepped inside without knocking. “You’re going,” she breathed. It wasn’t a question. She didn’t turn to look at him, and that left Luca out in the cold. He could usually tell what she was thinking by looking at her face, but right now, he was in the dark.
“Yes,” he admitted.
“When will you leave?” she asked.
“Now,” he said.
She exhaled slowly, not seeming surprised by his answer. “And what happens to Serge when all this is over?” That was a question that he didn’t want to answer, but he would. She deserved his honesty.
“He doesn’t walk away from this,” he said. That seemed to get her attention because she finally turned and locked eyes with him.
“You’re going to kill him,” she said.
“Yes,” he admitted.
Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away. “Good.” She sounded different this time—colder, and more final. He could tell that she meant it.
Luca stepped closer, watching her carefully. “You don’t leave this room,” he said.
“I know,” she breathed.
“You don’t open the door for anyone but Dante or me,” he insisted.
“I know,” she said. “If something goes wrong—”
“It won’t,” he said, cutting her off.
“You don’t get to promise that,” she added.
“I don’t make promises that I can’t keep,” he said.
“Then don’t start now.” Silence stretched between them, and Luca stepped closer. He was close enough that he could see the shift in her breathing, and the way her pulse kicked just slightly faster.
“Say it,” she said quietly.
His brow lifted. “Say what?” he asked.
“Say that you’re coming back to me, Luca,” she demanded.
Luca didn’t answer right away, because that wasn’t something he said lightly. Hell, he had never made anyone a promise like that before, because he couldn’t predict the future. Her eyes held his. “Luca,” she said.
His jaw tightened. “I’m coming back.” Her shoulders dropped just slightly as though she was relieved.
“Good,” she said. “Because if you don’t—” She didn’t finish what she was about to say, but she didn’t need to. He understood everything.
Luca’s hand came up, gripping her jaw lightly, tilting her face up toward his. “Stay here,” he said, sealing his lips over hers. It wasn’t a request. This time, it was a directive, and his word was final.
She didn’t argue with him. “Okay.” He could tell that she meant it. Maybe she trusted him to come back. And her trust was more dangerous. It was more dangerous than Serge and even more dangerous than the Russians.
Luca Camorra didn’t lose control. He prided himself on that fact, but there was something about Isabella that made him want to give up his control completely.
He leaned in and kissed her. Not slow or careful, and not like before.
This kiss was different. He was making her a promise without words.
He was claiming her and reminding her who she belonged to.
He was giving her something to hold onto.
Her hand came up, gripping his shirt, pulling him closer for just a second longer before he pulled back.
Because if he stayed, he would never leave, and he needed to leave.
He needed to bring down the Romano family so that Isabella would be safe.
Luca stepped back, forcing the distance between them, trying to maintain his control.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said, more to himself than to her. Then he turned and walked out. He didn’t look back, but he didn’t have to because he could feel her eyes on him as he walked away.
The shipping yard was exactly what he expected—dark and industrial. It was perfect for a fight. Luca stepped out of the SUV, gun already in his hand, and his men were moving into position around him like a well-oiled machine.
“Thermals confirm movement inside,” Dante said. “There are a lot of men in there.”
“Good.” Luca rolled his shoulders, ignoring the lingering pain.
“This ends tonight.” He gave them the order to go, and the world exploded around him.
Gunfire ripped through the air as his men breached the building from multiple sides, cutting through Serge’s perimeter before they could react. His men were fast, precise, and deadly.
Luca moved through it like he always did, with no wasted motion and no hesitation.
He found his targets and eliminated them, advancing when a man came at him, taking him down too.
He pushed deeper into the yard, through the chaos, through the noise, until he spotted Serge standing in the center of the room like he’d been waiting there for him.
“You should’ve stayed out of this,” Serge called over the gunfire.
Luca didn’t slow down as he walked towards Serge. “You should’ve stayed away from her.”
Serge’s smile was cold. “She’s a Romano. You don’t get to change her fate just because you wanted to. She’s ours. You can’t change what we were going to do with her.”
Luca raised his gun. “Watch me,” he taunted.
He closed the distance between them quickly. This wasn’t about men fighting around them, or the guns going off. This was personal.
Serge moved first, and Luca countered. Fists hit flesh as they collided, trading blows like neither of them planned on walking away. Serge was good. He was fast, and Luca could tell that he had been trained to fight. But Luca was built for this. He was born for war.
Serge swung again, and Luca caught it. He turned and drove him back. “You think a ring and some vows change anything?” Serge spat.
“It changes everything,” Luca insisted. Luca drove him into a steel beam hard enough to crack bones, and Serge grunted, but didn’t drop. He didn’t stop.
“You took what was promised to someone else,” Serge growled.
Luca’s grip tightened. “She’s not yours to promise to anyone. She’s a person, not an object that you can just give away.”
Serge laughed. “She was never yours to take.” That was it. That was the line he wouldn’t let Serge cross. Luca ended it with one clean shot to his center mass, and just like that, silence followed as Serge’s body hit the ground.
Luca stood there for a second longer, looking down at him, and making sure that he was going to stay down. When he was satisfied, he turned to shout orders to his men. “Clear it,” he ordered.
His men moved fast and efficiently until his orders were carried out. It was done, and now, all that was left was to tell Isabella.
By the time Luca got back to the house, it was quiet again. It was almost like nothing had happened—nothing had changed, but that wasn’t the truth. Everything had changed tonight, and he just hoped that his new wife would see it as him wanting to protect her.
He walked straight to the bedroom that they shared. He didn’t knock, just opened the door. She was there—exactly where he left her. She was waiting for him to come back to her, just as he promised.
Her eyes snapped to his the second he walked in. She was scanning him, as though trying to make sure that he was in one piece. “You’re back,” she said.
Luca stepped inside the room and closed the door. “Yeah, and you don’t have anything to worry about. Serge is dead.”
Her chest rose slowly and then fell. “Okay.” She stepped closer and stopped right in front of him. “Is it over?”
Luca looked at her. “Yes.” It was the truth because the war was over. Her shoulders dropped as tension left her body. She wrapped her arms around him with no hesitation.
Luca went still for half a second, and then his arms banded around her, holding her tight.
It was possessive and real, and for the first time since he had met her, there was no war for him to fight.
The threat was over, and he had no next move to plan.
It was just the two of them—just her, and Luca finally let himself believe that he would never lose her.
Isabella belonged to him, and no family would ever be able to take her from him again. He’d make damn sure of that.