Chapter Six
Luca
“Here,” Clover instructs Matteo to turn onto a road obscured by trees.
Turning onto it, I can feel the moment Thomas morphs into mode, as I follow along.
This is where my mind turns off. Emotions turn off; the only thing on it is getting the job done.
When I’m this Luca, I care nothing about you.
You could cry to me that your wife is in labor with your firstborn, and I’ll still put a bullet through your skull.
I don’t give a fuck. Having to turn that mentality off is hard once I get back to my normal life.
Coming back down, switching out. It’s mentally rough.
And that’s another reason I don’t want Rowan around.
I become someone different. I can’t have her in danger and still try to maintain the killer Luca.
It wouldn’t work. The drive down is bouncy; you can tell by how it’s not grated that few visitors came, which is a good sign for us.
In the dim light of the car, I watch Matteo remove his hand from the steering wheel and find Clover's. Her intake of breath when he makes purchase is loud.
I can’t imagine what is going on through her head, and honestly, I don’t want to know.
Coming to a circular drive, Matteo parks in front of the sprawling home. Not a home, a fucking torture chamber with the fixings of a home.
“You don’t have to go in,” he quietly says to Clover.
I try to ignore their conversation, giving them their space, but her voice is so broken that I can’t.
“I need to do this, O.”
Her nickname for him makes me smile. If someone else used that nickname for him, he would bury them in one of his vacant plots… Hell, it probably wouldn't even be empty.
The doors opening pull me out of my thoughts and force me to clear my mind. Stepping out into the cool night air, everything is so quiet. It’s eerie. Not even insect sounds.
Thomas and I look at one another before stepping to the front door. I look back and see that Matteo is blocking Clover’s view. He might have agreed to let her come, but her safety comes first for him.
Thomas turns the knob, and to our surprise, it opens with no problem.
“That was easy.” Thomas smiles back at me.
“Don’t jinx us,” Matteo calls from the back.
I give Thomas a face to say, ‘What did you say?’
He widens his eyes at me before I push my way inside, leaving him trailing behind me.
The foyer is huge, but nothing off-putting.
Clover slides up to us.
“Where were you three?” I ask her.
She walks a few steps and points to a door.
“Thomas, you stay and keep watch while we go.”
He nods his head at me as I pull my gun out.
Opening the heavy wooden door, we take steps down to a basement. Not being able to find a light switch, I pull out my flashlight, lighting up the room.
“There.” Clover points to another door, her hand shaking.
This one is ajar. Before I pull it fully open, I place my flashlight inside and let it bounce around the hallway as I scan what I can see, my gun following the light, ready to go off. When I feel like all is good, I open the door fully. The smell that hits me is ungodly.
Rotting food, piss, and dirtiness.
There are three doors off the hallway, all open. As I make my way in, I let my light bounce around the first room, then the second. As I get to the other door and walk in, all I see is a chair, nothing else.
I know this is where Damian was.
Glancing back, I spot Matteo and Clover entering the first room.
Looking around the room, but nothing sticks out. Panning up, I spot a camera. Immediately walking to it, using my flashlight, breaking the lens before yanking it from the wall. Not knowing or caring if it worked.
Deciding to go to the second room, there is only a bed that is skewed to the side and what looks like a shower.
As I point the light around the room, I catch something on the wall. Pushing the bed over more, I uncover tally marks. My hand runs down the etched grooves. Standing up, I count them.
“Five, ten, fifteen…” I pause; there are two months' worth of marks on the wall. This must have been Soleil’s. Sadness tries to creep in, but I can’t let it; I force it back down where it has to stay.
There isn’t anything down here that could help us, so, backing out of the room, I shut the door, forever enclosing her sadness and memories inside.
As I walk by the first room Matteo and Clover are in, I look in but keep walking when I see Clover on the floor, crying, while Matteo quietly looks down at her, speaking. Her body shakes.
Heading back up the stairs to the main floor, I’m not sure what we can find here that will help us.
“Thomas, take the upstairs, see if you can find anything we should take with us.”
“You got it,” Thomas says as he walks toward the stairs leading to the second floor.
I open every drawer, cabinet, and door before I make my way to the office. It’s grand and screams money. Oversized wooden desk and a chair that looks like a king would have sat in. “Pompas asshole.” Dust covers every surface, hindsight that they truly only used this place to stash humans.
I don’t use caution as I yank each drawer from the desk, throwing it to the ground once I’m done with it. I still coming up empty-handed, which pisses me off.
Pulling out the last drawer, a gold Zippo bounces my light from it. Picking it up, my finger traces the engraved words, The Unseen Beast. The anger that surges through me is so heavy that the only thing I can do is tear the office apart, hating everything to do with Briggs and TUSB.
“Nothing,” comes from the doorway, cutting off my tantrum. It’s as if being in a rage room, and it’s pure bliss. Thomas stands there, taking up the doorway with his body.
“Figured,” I huff out to him, feeling like I failed by not finding anything.
As we make our way to the foyer, the basement door opens, and a swollen-faced Clover steps out with Matteo following in her wake, never letting her get too far from him, scared he’ll lose her again.
“Ready?” Matteo looks at Thomas and me.
We both nod our heads and head out of the house.
Grabbing gasoline cans from the truck bed, I give one to Thomas and hand Matteo his.
“No. Give it to her.” He motions his head to Clover.
I look between Clover and Matteo, and I can see she needs this more than anything.
Her small hand clasps the can, turns around, and walks into the house. She’s on autopilot.
Matteo stands, not following her, but I can see he wants to. Knowing what both our women have gone through, sometimes we have to sit back and just let them purge themselves.
Clover is gone for a few minutes, returning with an empty can and a small smile on her face, walking straight to Matteo.
I watch as Matteo encircles his arms around her, whispering in her ear for only her to hear, before he kisses the side of her head. She slowly blanches from his lips. His face falls. He’s being tortured for caring and loving her… Every broken piece.
We have about eight gas cans in the truck's bed, so Thomas and I walk around the perimeter, pouring the gas. The smell burns my nose, but I ignore it.
Once we meet back up in front of the house. I watch as Thomas grabs another can and runs into the house, knowing he’s heading upstairs to douse it.
Walking over to Clover, “Want to do the honors?” I smile at her as I hold out my hand, the gold Zippo waiting for its last use.
She stares into my eyes before taking it out of my hand. And in that moment, no words are needed because I see all of her as she lifts it, flips the lid, and strikes the flame, watching it come to life. The glow of the flame reflected in her eyes.
“You got this,” Matteo tells her as Thomas jogs out of the house, now empty-handed.
“All done.” He slaps my shoulder as we stand and watch Clover, letting her have her moment.
She stands up straighter as she leaves Matteo’s grip, and I watch as his hand falls to his side and makes a fist, wanting to go with her but stopping himself. Clover walks to the front door, where the ornate rug in the foyer is doused in gasoline. The flame lighting her way to her rebirth.
In one swoop, she throws the Zippo, and we all watch as it lands on the rug, engulfed by flames in seconds. She stands at the threshold; the fire spreads as it catches pools of gasoline on the floor, getting fed its accelerant to keep going. To eat and destroy this house of horror.
We don’t leave until the house is ablaze; we're sure there is no saving it.
Clover stands outside the truck the whole time, watching.
When Rowan did the same to the frat, I swear I saw a black darkness lift from her—dispelling the trauma she was holding onto, releasing it to the place it deserved to forever be at.
Clover turns toward us, her eyes glistening from unshed tears, nods her head as we all leave the house to fall to ash.
Parting our way as we get back to the funeral home, I watch as Matteo carries Clover down the hallway and away from prying eyes.
I peek into Damian’s room, and he’s sound asleep, his monitors tracking his heart rate. I let the door shut soundlessly behind me before making my way to my woman.
I can’t get to my room fast enough. Entering the bedroom, she’s the first thing I spot, splayed out on her stomach, sound asleep. The blanket is half hastily lying on her, giving me a glimpse of her body.
I stand there, taking her in. She’s beautiful.
Rowan is everything I never knew I needed.
I never thought about my future because in my line of work, you never know if you’ll have a tomorrow, but Rowan made me think about the days ahead.
She’s given me a purpose other than revenge.
I know I’ll never live a normal life, but with Rowan by my side, that’s okay.
Toeing off my boots, I undress at the end of the bed, letting my shoulder holster and clothing fall into a heap.
Standing naked, I walk to the side of the bed, panning down to her.
Her mouth is ajar. I trace my finger down her cheek, to her neck, and softly pull her spaghetti strap nightshirt down her shoulder.
Bending, I kiss her lips, letting my tongue enter her open mouth, my hand continues its travels down her body, to her ass cheek, squeezing it.
She moves her body, little movements, while her lips kiss mine back, her body waking up.
I watch as her eyes slowly slit open, and she moans into my mouth as she turns from her stomach to her back, spreading her legs open, the cover falling off her.
Climbing in between them, my favorite spot, my dick is already hard as my tip pushes against her clit. My girl doesn’t wear panties when she sleeps. Says she feels constricted. I feel that.
Moaning, her sleepy eyes look me over, “You smell like fire.” She announces as she pushes herself harder toward me. Her sleepy voice reaches my ears.
“It’s all ash now.” I groan out to her as she moves herself under me, rubbing my dick between her split, her wetness coating my shaft. “Fuck, baby,” I praise her.
“Fuck me, Luca.” Her voice is filled with need, but she doesn’t need to say it again.
Wrapping my hand around my shaft, lining up to her entrance, and sinking into my favorite spot.
Her warmth engulfs me as her ridges massage my dick as I move inside her.
Her body welcomes me as it stretches to allow me in.
“Oh, God,” she pants out as I sink further inside her.
Looking down on her, I watch as her eyes close as she bites her bottom lip, trying to stifle herself from being loud.
Picking up my tempo, I know the moment I hit her G-spot, when her hands come to my ass to push me in deeper.
“Fuck, I love you. You’re so wet for me, Killer. I want you to cum on my dick,” I beg in a growl as I take her leg and raise it, letting me fuck her harder. My balls slapping against her ass, the sounds of our moaning, her wetness fills the room. Our scents engulf us.
I can feel my balls tightening as her pussy becomes too much. “Come for me, baby.”
With a few more pumps, I can feel her pussy contracting, squeezing me, and I pound her harder.
“Oh fuck. Fuck,” she praises me as we both come, my movements becoming jerky and slow as her tight pussy milks me of my cum.
Leaning down, I kiss her deeply, tasting her minty toothpaste before climbing from her. My dick bobs, still hard, as I make my way into the restroom and grab her a rag. I’m never satiated when it comes to Rowan. She is my drug, and I always want more.
Climbing back into bed naked and sleepy, I place the rag between her legs before pulling her to my chest, where I wrap myself around her, falling asleep.