Chapter Two #2
“No,” he said immediately. “I’m here to make sure you don’t end up just another statistic because of it.”
“Why?”
“Because someone decided you were expendable,” he replied. “And we don’t like that.”
Her laugh came out thin. “We?”
He glanced over her shoulder, where the shadows shifted—men moving, watching, waiting. “Me and the people who pulled you out of that mess.”
Another beat.
She exhaled slowly. “If I go with you ... I’m not handing anything over. Not yet.”
“That’s fine,” he said. “I didn’t ask for it.”
She studied his face, searching for the lie. Found none.
“Mara,” she said finally. “My name is Mara.”
His gaze held hers. “Good girl.”
He stepped back and angled his body, opening a path beside him. “Come on. Let’s get you somewhere safe before this turns into another bad fucking decision.”
After a moment, she stepped forward.
This time, into the dark by choice.
****
Luca Moretti didn’t relax until Mara was inside the vehicle and the door was shut.
Not slammed. Not rushed. Closed with deliberate calm, the kind that hopefully told her she wasn’t being shoved into anything she couldn’t walk away from—yet.
He took the long way around the car, scanning the street as he moved. Old habits but necessary ones. The city was never as empty as it pretended to be and tonight had already proven that.
She sat stiffly in the back seat, one arm wrapped protectively around her ribs, chin high in defiance even as pain tightened the line of her mouth. Streetlight spilled through the window in uneven flashes, illuminating her in fragments.
Luca noticed everything.
The swelling along her cheek. The way her breath hitched when the car rolled over a pothole. The faint tremor in her hands she was trying like hell to control.
She was hurt.
She was furious.
But she was still standing.
That impressed him more than it should.
He opened the rear door and slid in beside her instead. Close enough that she could feel the heat of him, far enough that she still had space. The door shut with the same deliberate calm.
Up front, the engine started immediately, smooth and quiet.
“We’re clear.” Mateo Cruz’s voice carried easily from the wheel—deep, rough, grounded. He rolled the car into traffic like he’d done it a thousand times before.
In the passenger seat, Nikolai “Kol” Petrov didn’t turn around. His eyes stayed locked on the mirrors, posture loose but alert.
“Anyone stupid enough to follow us?” Luca asked.
“None that matter,” Kol replied from the passenger seat. “Yet.”
Luca turned to look at Mara, sitting calmly in the seat beside him, but he could still see the tremor in her hands.
“You did good back there,” he said after a moment.
Mateo glanced at her in the rearview mirror, giving her a quick once-over that missed nothing. “You ran pretty damn good for someone who just got cracked in the ribs.”
Mara stiffened. “I didn’t have a choice.”
Mateo’s mouth tipped up in a humorless half-smile. “Yeah. That’s usually the case. You get smacked around, you don’t wanna hang around with the asshole doing all the punching.”
“Watch your tone,” Luca said.
Mateo shrugged. “Wasn’t an insult.”
She let out a short, humorless laugh. “I got the shit kicked out of me.”
“And you still got away,” Luca replied. “Most people freeze.”
She glanced at him sharply, suspicion flashing in her eyes. “You watch a lot of people get attacked?”
“Enough.”
He felt her studying him now, taking his measure the way he’d taken hers. Not with fear anymore. With calculation.
Good.
The car turned, the city thinning as they moved.
“Office cameras are already wiped,” Kol said quietly. “But someone pulled the feeds before we did.”
Luca’s jaw tightened. “Inside?”
“Maybe,” Kol replied. “Or your girl’s boss was smarter than he looked.”
Mateo snorted. “Nobody that sloppy is smart. Fucker’s just got money.”
Luca leaned back, one arm braced against the door. From this angle, he could see her more clearly. She was younger than him, probably by a lot, and she wasn’t small or stick thin. Not fragile in the way fashion magazines liked to imagine women should be.
She had curves—real ones. Strong thighs beneath her skirt. Hips that flared softly where her jacket fell open. A belly that wasn’t flat and sharp, but smooth, faintly rounded, the kind a man could grip without fear of breaking something delicate.
There was substance to her.
Something solid.
His gut tightened unexpectedly.
He looked away before the thought went anywhere dangerous.
“Why take me with you?” she asked suddenly. “Why not call the cops?”
Luca huffed a quiet laugh. “Because your boss owns a bunch of them.”
That landed. He saw it in the way her shoulders tensed.
“You knew I thought he was up to something,” she said.
“I suspected,” he corrected. “Didn’t know what your involvement was or wasn’t until you pulled that drive and ran.”
Silence stretched.
Her voice came softer this time. “I didn’t know it was ... that.”
“I know.”
She looked down at her hands. Blood had dried beneath her nails. “I thought it was fraud. Bribes. Accounting tricks.”
“Everyone does,” Luca said. “That’s why it works.”
The car slowed at a red light. Luca’s reflection stared back at him in the glass, older than his years, scars faintly visible along his knuckles.
For a split second, the present peeled away.
He smelled bleach.
Blood.
Concrete under his boots.
He remembered sitting cuffed to a chair, ribs broken, mouth full of iron, wondering if this was the night his luck finally ran out.
Say the words.
My word is iron.
If I give it, it doesn’t break.
The man across from him—calm, watchful, ruthless in his restraint.
Welcome to the Iron Covenant.
The light turned green.
Luca blinked and the memory snapped back into place, filed away in the past where it belonged.
“You going to tell me your name?” Mara asked quietly.
He glanced at her. Really looked this time.
“Luca.”
She nodded once, as if committing it to memory. “You always talk like this?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’ve already decided how things are going to go.”
He smirked. “Only when I’m right.”
She snorted despite herself. It was small. Brief. But it was real.
The car turned again, heading somewhere darker, quieter.
“Get some rest,” he said. “We’ll deal with everything else when you’re somewhere safe.”
Mateo leaned back, arms crossed. “Doc’s already on standby. She took a couple of shots to the ribs.”
Mara’s eyes snapped open. “I’m fine.”
Mateo looked at her. Really looked. “Sure you are. Doesn’t mean you’re not hurt.”
Mara held his gaze in the mirror, and that strength had Luca’s body heating in the most primal way. “I know the difference between bruised ribs and broken. Trust me, mine are bruised.”
“Fuck,” Matteo growled, a sentiment Luca shared.
Kol added, dry as dust, “Arguing won’t make it heal faster.”
A beat.
Mara huffed out a breath despite herself.
Luca glanced back at both men. “Enough.”
Mateo grinned. “See? He likes you.”
Kol didn’t look up from the road. “Don’t encourage him.”
“And if I decide to leave?” she asked.
Luca didn’t hesitate. “Then we won’t stop you.”
That surprised her.
“But,” he added, voice dropping, “I’d be a shitty bastard if I didn’t tell you they’ll come for you. And next time, they won’t bother with throwing hands. They’ll use something a lot more permanent.”
Her jaw tightened.
“Yeah,” she said. “That’s what I thought.”
She leaned her head back against the seat, eyes closing despite herself. Exhaustion finally clawing its way in.
Luca watched her for another second.
Strong.
Smart.
Not broken—just bruised.
And for reasons he didn’t particularly like examining yet, he was already thinking about how far he’d go to keep her that way.