CHAPTER 3
Luca Vitello didn’t sleep much anymore.
It was almost 3 a.m. when he returned to his penthouse high above the city, lit by cold steel and the glow of neon far below. He loosened his tie as he stepped inside, the air still smelling faintly of gunpowder and cologne.
The meeting with Don Marcello had gone longer than expected. Guns, shipments, deals. Men who spoke in half-threats and promises soaked in blood. Luca hadn’t flinched once. He never did.
But now, in the stillness of his own space, something in his shoulders finally sagged.
He walked straight to the bar in the corner and poured himself a glass of scotch. Didn’t drink it. Just held it, staring out at the skyline.
Then, without thinking, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out his second phone the one only he and Grayson used for Mia.
One new message.
Grayson: She had a good day. Drew for hours. Says she misses you.
Luca closed his eyes.
The tension in his chest eased just slightly. He could picture her so clearly small and quiet, curled up in her favorite corner of the couch, pencil smudges on her fingers, hair tucked behind her ear like she always did when she was deep in thought.
He tapped out a quick reply.
Luca: Make sure she sleeps. And eat something.
He didn’t say tell her I love her. He never did. Mia knew. She’d always known in the way he checked the locks twice before leaving the house. In the way he made Grayson memorize emergency protocols. In the way he gave her silence instead of pressure, art supplies instead of rules.
He turned his phone over, staring at the blank screen.
If anyone ever found out about her…
If anyone ever even suspected…
No. He wouldn’t let that happen. No matter what it cost him.
He finally took a sip of the scotch sharp, burning. He welcomed it.
Some nights, he wondered if he was too far gone to ever be the kind of man she believed he was. But it didn’t matter.
She believed it.
So he’d keep pretending. Keep killing, trading, commanding.
And keep her hidden, soft and safe in the world he built with blood.
Mia was in her room when she heard the faint sound of the front door unlocking. It was late or maybe early but time blurred in this house when Luca was gone.
She sat up on her bed, blinking the sleep from her eyes, heart already racing.
Footsteps. Not rushed. Not unfamiliar.
Grayson didn’t say anything from downstairs — which meant he already knew who it was.
She swung her legs off the bed and stood, bare feet silent against the floorboards as she padded softly into the hallway, then to the top of the staircase.
And there he was.
Luca.
Still in his dark coat, one hand running through his hair like he was trying to brush off the weight of the world. His eyes flicked upward and the second he saw her, something in his expression shifted.
The cold, unreadable mask cracked just a little.
“Mia,” he said, voice low. He didn’t smile. He never did. But his eyes softened, just for her.
She came down the steps slowly, not rushing, not speaking. When she reached him, she stopped only inches away. She looked up at him, and he looked down at her, the silence between them warm and full of everything they never needed to say.
“You’re home,” she whispered.
His hand rose, brushing her hair back gently, tucking it behind her ear. “Did you eat?”
She nodded.
“Sleep?”
“A little.”
“Nightmares?”
She hesitated, then gave the smallest shrug.
His jaw flexed. She could see the storm behind his eyes, the guilt he never said aloud that she had to live like this, hidden, anxious, constantly watched. And she hated that he blamed himself.
But instead of saying so, she reached out and hugged him.
Luca froze for half a second. Then, slowly, carefully, he wrapped his arms around her like someone holding something fragile and irreplaceable.
“I missed you,” she whispered against his chest.
“I know,” he murmured. “I missed you too.”
It was the only truth he let himself say out loud.
They stayed like that for a while, Mia’s small frame resting against the man who terrified half the city the man who would kill to keep her hidden, and die to keep her safe.
In that moment, she wasn’t just his sister. She was his reason.
And he would never let the world touch her.