61. Luna
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
LUNA
Everyone’s voices are laced with exhaustion in the overcrowded safehouse. The air’s thick with sweat, making me nauseous. The acrid smell of the fire still clings to their clothes, and it’s overwhelming. A reminder of everything we lost, but we’re so grateful for all the lives that were saved.
Sophie wraps her arms around me. “I thought you were dead,” she whispers.
I squeeze her tighter, burying my face in her curls. “I thought the same about you.”
Amara stands beside her, frozen. Her eyes are wide, unfocused. The staff huddles nearby, clutching each other like lifelines, their faces pale and drawn. They escaped. They knew where to run, where to disappear. For now, they’re safe.
That word feels like an illusion because Bria isn’t back yet. And the woman pacing by the window, her heels clicking against the concrete floor, fills the room with panic and hopelessness. “You should never have been with him,” Caterina says to me. The room stills.
I swallow the fire clawing up my throat. “I’m exactly where I should be.”
She steps closer, pearls catching the dim light. “Nico was fine without you.”
I meet her stare, refusing to cower like I used to. “Nico was engaged to a woman he didn’t love before me.”
Her lip curls, but before she can spit another poisoned word, the front door swings open. A gust of cold air rushes in, and Bria stands in the doorway.
Caterina reaches her first, murmuring words too fast for her lips to keep up. Sophie grips her shoulder, calm but fierce. The staff surrounds her, their voices a mixture of Italian and broken English, questions tumbling out and breath held for answers.
Her eyes lock in on me. She breaks free, slamming into my chest, fingers twisting in my shirt. “Luna.” Her voice scraped raw by tears and panic.
I fold my arms around her, feeling the tremors beneath her skin. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you. You don’t have to say anything yet. Just breathe.”
She shakes her head, breath stuttering. “No, you don’t understand.
” Her urgency has my heart hammering inside my chest. Nico.
Is she going to tell me he’s dead? She pulls back, eyes wide and full of emotion.
“Nico saved me.” My knees almost buckle with relief.
Barrett grabs my elbow to keep me upright.
“No, Luna. He was unstoppable. He was bleeding and half-dead, but he tore through them like nothing could stop him. He... he put his body between mine and a gun. He took them down one by one. He was a badass. A reckless, bleeding, terrifying badass.” Her voice wavers.
“He’s a hero,” she whispers, eyes shining with something beyond awe. “And I thought. I thought he was going to die right in front of me, but he didn’t.” Her words claw at my skin and hit me square in the chest.
Nicolai Caputo does not break.
I cup her face gently, brushing back damp strands of hair.
“I know, topolina.” She exhales shakily, the fight leaving her shoulders all at once. Then she looks at me again, voice quieter now.
“He’s coming back, right?” I force a smile and cradle her face in my hands.
“He always does.” Barrett squeezes my shoulder, and I lean my cheek against his hand. He’s been worried sick ever since he arrived.
Bria pulls away, exhaustion sinking deep into her bones. Caterina leads her to the couch and drapes a blanket over her shoulders. Now that the commotion is over, Barrett walks away, and the staff tries to get some rest. Amara stands near the doorway, no doubt waiting for Mateo’s safe return.
I step back, cradling my stomach. I'm not sure if I’m trying to reassure my child that he will return, or myself. Nico’s still out there somewhere. And until he’s in my arms again, I won’t be able to close my eyes. Sleep is not an option after everything we’ve been through in the last few days.
“You won’t be able to stop him, you know.” Caterina’s voice grates on my last nerve. I refuse to overreact because a part of me knows it’s true. Nico will do whatever he has to do to end this war, even if it kills him.
“I’m not trying to stop him.”
She scrutinizes me, waiting for me to break. To show weakness, but that will never happen. If not for this baby, I would have been by my husband’s side, fighting right along with him.
“Then why do you look so afraid?” Afraid?
“No. Not for him. For them, because he will burn their fucking world down around them.” I know where he’s going. And I don’t care.
My father had Nico tortured. And dragged a blade across my stomach like I wasn’t his flesh and blood. If I weren’t carrying this child, I’d be right there with him, pulling the trigger.
I turn, giving her my back as I walk to the window, knowing it’s dangerous to be so exposed, but I need a moment to gather my thoughts.
Several of Nico’s soldiers are standing guard.
That should give me some peace of mind, but it has the opposite effect.
Knowing Nico has fewer men fighting beside him unsettles me.
Fear suddenly coils tightly inside my chest. Every worst-case scenario is playing through my mind.
A repeat of what happened when we were ripped from our home and tortured to near death.
The absolute terror I felt at losing Nico and the threat that they would cut my child out of my body.
I know how sadistic my father and his men can be, and if he doesn’t come back, I’ll need to raise this baby alone.
And I don’t know how to survive that.
The realization slides in, painfully, carving its way into my heart.
I don’t know where he ends, and I begin anymore.
Somewhere between the gunfire, the blood, the agony, we became something more. Something unbreakable.
I close my eyes, forcing the sting behind them to disappear. He’s coming back. He has to.
The truth of it all guts me. If he doesn’t come back, if something happens to him, there won’t be anything left of me: my strength, my determination, and my defiance. Every one of them is a mere illusion.
Without him, I won’t just break. I will shatter.