Chapter 28
Lucien
"Higher! Lucien!"
Outside Sturgis, at the state park, early April sunshine shed winter's bite and spread warmth that made bones loosen.
I bent at the waist, hands pushing the child's swing, and each time I sent that small figure in the bright yellow puffer jacket soaring skyward, he let out a burst of laughter clear as wind chimes.
Elora sat on a bench nearby, clutching a steaming cup of coffee. Sunlight filtered through sparse pine branches, gilding her soft light-brown hair with a fuzzy golden halo. She wasn't looking at her phone or the scenery. Those beautiful eyes—usually guarded and distant—were fixed on Leo and me.
At the corner of her mouth hung a smile so faint and shallow she probably didn't even notice it herself.
Since that day, things between us had gotten better. She'd started accepting my gestures, even trusted me alone with Leo. For me, that was the distance from hell to heaven.
"Hold tight, little man, we're picking up speed!" I pushed harder, sending him higher.
"Whoa!" Leo's stubby legs kicked excitedly in the air. "I'm flying! Mommy! Look, I'm flying!"
Elora laughed and set down her coffee to wave at us.
That laugh. Without warning, it pried open the long-sealed Pandora's box buried deepest in my heart. Inside wasn't disaster and plague, but things I'd thought I'd been stripped of, things I didn't deserve—a home, a wife, a son who carried my blood and called for me in that sweet baby voice.
When Leo tired out, he wandered off to build a snowman. I walked over and sat on the bench beside Elora.
"Your coffee's about to freeze." I leaned back, legs stretched out casually, glancing at the paper cup in her hands.
Elora followed my gaze down, lips quirking with the ghost of a smile.
"I like it cooler," she said, taking a sip. "Keeps you sharp. Keeps you from getting lost in impractical delusions."
"You can get lost in delusions all you want." I stared at her profile, wind-flushed and lovely, my gaze hungrily tracing the delicate line of her neck. "If that day comes, I'll be there at the finish line to catch you."
Elora's fingers stilled. She turned, and those beautiful eyes met mine. The air hung suspended for a heartbeat. Even the whisper of wind through pines seemed to retreat far away. I could see myself reflected in her pupils—a hopeless bastard with "longing" practically carved into his face.
"Smooth talker." She pursed her lips, returning her gaze to Leo crouched in the snow, rolling a snowball. "Four years, and you've mastered the playboy handbook."
"You wound me." I chuckled. "These four years, I couldn't even stand the smell of women's perfume. What I just said? That's the most sincere thing I could scrape together in this lifetime."
Elora hummed softly, didn't argue, just let the breeze blow a strand of hair across her cheek. Almost reflexively, I reached up and tucked it behind her ear. She didn't pull away.
"Sturgis's snow is melting." I withdrew my hand, masking my racing heart with casual conversation. "What's happening in town next month? I heard there's a spring market?"
"Yeah, Rebirth Fragrance will have a booth." She tilted her face skyward. "Leo's excited. He's been dying for that plastic Spider-Man that shoots nylon webbing."
I wanted to say "I can have Enzo airlift a dozen limited-edition models from Manhattan," but swallowed the words. I remembered how she'd glared at me last time.
"So... market day," I ventured, "need a free pack mule?"
Elora turned to look at me. She looked for a long time, long enough I almost took it back. Then she raised her coffee, took a sip, and let her gaze drift away again.
"...Whatever."
Just one word. But it landed in my ears sweeter than any victory I'd won in four years.
"Mommy! Lucien! Look at my super mega snowball!"
Leo's shout shattered the quiet moment. The kid clutched a snowball bigger than his belly, wobbling toward us, and finally smacked it right onto my boot.
"Very impressive, little man." I scooped him from the snow, brushing ice off his knees.
"Alright, superhero, you're out of power." Elora stood. "Time for lunch. Mary made mac and cheese today."
"Yay! Mac and cheese!" Leo cheered in my arms.
"I'll drive you." I followed immediately.
Elora carried Leo inside and shut the door. I stood there a long time, unwilling to leave.
"Boss, rein it in. You've got documents to sign."
Rocco materialized from the shadows, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, wearing his signature smartass expression. I wiped the smile from my face.
"Get the car." I kicked him.
The moment I slid into the backseat, Enzo turned around, expression grave, holding out a red encrypted satellite phone.
"Boss, it's for you. Carlo Casalesi."
Irritation surged. Three years since I'd ordered the gradual severance of ties with the Casalesis.
When I'd followed up on Natalie's recovered memories, what I found made me sick—Serena's calculated framing of Elora, every smear campaign, all orchestrated by that father-daughter duo.
Even that "taking a bullet" lifesaving grace twenty years ago was Carlo's staged con.
I couldn't even remember how I felt learning that. Shamefully, Natalie had bent over backward for them, and I'd let Carlo treat the Genovese family like a host to bleed dry for years.
At least Marco shut up after that. Never mentioned arranged marriages again.
I took the phone slowly and pressed accept.
"Lucien! Thank God you finally answered!" Carlo's raspy, weathered voice burst through the speaker. "Listen, son, Serena—she's dying!"
I traced my suit pants idly, watching his performance with cold eyes.
"The doctor just gave the final word. Her heart failure's progressing faster than expected...
Lucien, she could stop breathing any moment!
I'm begging you, for all the years between our families, come see her.
Even in her coma she's calling your name...
Lucien, whatever she did wrong, she's dying!
She just loved you too much... Please, see her one last time! "
Nausea churned in my gut.
"Is that right?" I said coldly. "What a shame. Give her my regards. And pick out a quality urn while you're at it."
The voice on the other end stopped dead, like someone had choked it off.
"Lucien..." Carlo's voice trembled. "What are you saying? She's like a sister to you. You watched her grow up! You won't even see her before she dies?"
"Sister?" I sneered. "Save it, Carlo. Red Hook docks, Brooklyn, twenty years ago. That shooter you paid off—the one who fired two rounds that just grazed your shoulder? Found his family. Your staged 'lifesaving' con? I've got it all."
Heavy breathing erupted from the phone.
"And Serena. She bribed someone to cut the manor surveillance, ran down my mother, framed Elora—Carlo, I left you your dignity by not exposing it. You thought you had leverage over me? Now you want me to visit a murderer who deserves to be torn apart?"
Long silence. So long I thought he'd hung up.
Then Carlo laughed. A sound no human should make—low, raspy, the deranged cackle of someone backed into a corner with nothing left to lose.
"Good... very good..." He panted. "Lucien, you're ruthless. I played the dog for your father for twenty years, for you for fifteen more. You think I did it for pocket change? Let me tell you—I've waited this long for today. For the day you finally had a weakness."
"You have a death wish." Killing intent flooded through me. "Carlo, if you touch one hair on her head—"
"Now you've got vulnerabilities, Lucien!
" Carlo's laughter turned vicious. "You're not the untouchable devil anymore!
You care about her, you even care about that little bastard!
You think hiding in South Dakota keeps them safe?
What if a runaway truck plows into the spring market crowd one afternoon?
Think your woman and your son can outrun tons of steel? "
"Since you won't give Serena a way out, won't leave the Casalesis any room... let's see how this plays out! Lucien, I'll make you watch what you care about most turn into a cold corpse right before your eyes!"
The call cut off abruptly.
I gripped the phone, my whole arm shaking uncontrollably. Next second, the phone flew from my hand, smashing into the front seat and bouncing onto the carpet.
"Boss!" Rocco whipped around.
I didn't answer. I stared down at my trembling right hand. This hand had gripped knives, fired guns, crushed enemies' throats. But just now—hearing Carlo say "spring market," "runaway truck," "cold corpse"—it shook so hard it couldn't even hold a phone.
I clenched my fist, nails digging deep into my palm. The sharp pain dragged back a sliver of clarity.
"Mobilize every assassination team in New York. Total lockdown on all Sturgis roads and airports. Maximum alert. If a single Casalesi dog sets foot in South Dakota—"
I lifted my eyes, voice cold as an ice-forged blade.
"Kill on sight."