Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
The shower ran scalding hot, yet Mia still felt the blood on her hands.
Luc’s blood. It had flowed more freely than the night he’d been shot outside the cinema.
She scrubbed her palms, wrists, and the spaces between her fingers until her skin burned raw.
The steam couldn’t erase the phantom stench of gunpowder in her hair or the echo of Bianca’s screams—so like Donata’s the night she died.
For years, Mia had buried that memory, locking it behind walls of silence.
Now it rose up, dragging her under. Her knees buckled, and she caught herself against the slick tiles, choking back bile.
This was the third attempt on her life. The second time Luc’s world had bled into hers with such brutal clarity.
The bathroom door clicked open.
“Mia.”
She glanced over her shoulder. Luc stood framed in the steam, his bandaged shoulder stark white against the bronze of his bare chest.
“You should be resting,” she said hoarsely, her voice cracking on the last word.
A beat of silence. Then his reflection appeared behind hers in the fogged mirror. “You’re shaking,” he said quietly.
Water dripped from her lashes like tears. “I imagine this is how life will be now,” she whispered, “one attack after another. The violence and the fear constant companions.”
His hand hovered just above her back—close enough that she could feel his heat. “Look at me,” he demanded softly.
She did. His thumb brushed the hollow beneath her ear, a fleeting touch that almost broke her. “You walked out of that club alive. That’s all that matters.”
“It’s not.” The words tore out of her like shrapnel. “Bianca could’ve—”
“Bianca’s fine.”
“And you took a bullet! Why would you push me away without thinking about yourself?”
A dangerous flicker crossed his face. He stepped closer, his good arm braced on the counter, caging her in. “You think I’d hesitate to take a hundred more?”
Her breath caught. “You’re not supposed to want to take any more.”
Luc exhaled hard, jaw tightening. “It’s the life. It is what it is.”
“No, it is not!” Her voice broke into a scream, raw and trembling.
“Nothing about this life of violence and bloodshed is normal. I don’t want it to be my normal.
I love being with you. I love our laughter, when we watch movies, when you hold me.
I love it when we have sex. But I hate the violence you accept so easily.
” She pounded her fists against his chest, each word a sob.
“Why did you have to drag me into this? Why?”
“You want to fall apart?” His voice dropped, rough and steady. “Do it. I’m here to catch you.”
His fingers slid into her wet hair, forcing her to meet his gaze. Complex emotions swirled in his: possession, guilt, something perilously close to tenderness.
Because of her, Bianca could have died. Bianca, who had no part in this world, could have been snuffed out just for being her friend. The bullet could have pierced Luc’s heart. He could have died.
“They’ll keep coming for me,” Mia said, her voice hoarse.
“I know.” His tone turned lethal. “But tonight was their last chance. Now I’m going for them. And I won’t leave anyone alive.”
Her stomach clenched. More blood.
“Would you give it up for me?” The question tore from her before she could stop it.
Luc’s gaze sharpened. “Give up what?”
“Your war. The Bonino territory. If they knew you weren’t after it anymore, maybe they’d stop.”
A cruel smile curved his mouth—cold and familiar. For a heartbeat, she saw the man she had once feared.
“No,” he said. “I won’t give it up. “I want their seat of power so I can use it to strengthen my position on the Commission. Like my father and grandfather, I will be its head one day—and I’ll get there by gathering power.”
“Even if you taking that power puts me in danger,” she whispered.
His fingers tightened in her hair.
“You make me feel things I have never before felt for anyone, but what I feel for you and business are separate. This is why a man shouldn’t let a woman weaken him. The line gets fucking blurred.”
Pain lanced through her chest. Of course, she was not worth as much as power. She broke. The first sob ripped from her throat, violent and unrestrained. Then another. And another.
Luc didn’t move, didn’t flinch. He absorbed every blow of her grief—the anger, the fear, the unbearable weight of survival. When her legs gave out, he caught her, lifting her effortlessly.
He carried her to bed. Held her through the aftershocks. His fingers traced slow, steady circles over her spine until the trembling eased.
When dawn bled through the curtains, Mia realized something worse than fear had taken root inside her—gratitude. For the man who had made her a target. For the hands that had stained her even as they sheltered her. For the devil who kept her alive in a world determined to see her dead.
She lay still, listening to his heartbeat beneath her ear, steady and strong. He had drifted into sleep, his face unguarded, almost boyish in repose. It was the only time he looked human—when he thought she wasn’t watching.
Her fingers curled into the sheets. One day, I’ll run, and you won’t find me, Luc.
The thought should have been a comfort. Instead, it cut deep, sharp as glass, because somewhere between his violence and his vows, she had started to trust him. Worse—she was falling for him.
Leaving might destroy her just as surely as staying would.
The way his voice softened when he said her name. The way he had taken a bullet without hesitation. The way he looked at her like she was precious, even though he could crush her without remorse. And that was the cruelest truth of all. He could love her, and still never stop being what he was.
Luc stirred in his sleep, his arm tightening around her, possessive even in rest.
Mia closed her eyes against the tears that burned.
What kind of fool falls in love with her own cage?
Mia woke to the soft creak of the bedroom door.
Her mind was still heavy with exhaustion, her body aching as sunlight slipped through the narrow parting in the drapes.
She rolled over, pressing her face into the pillow.
Her chest ached. Her heart was at war. And she despised the uncertainty and the gnawing indecision she couldn’t seem to escape.
“Do you plan to go back to sleep?”
Mia smiled faintly into the pillow before turning. Bianca sat on the edge of the bed, watching her with that quiet, patient understanding only old friends possessed. Her eyes were swollen and rimmed with red, and Mia realized she must have been crying for hours.
“You’re thinking yourself into a hole,” Bianca said softly.
Mia pushed herself upright, the sheets twisted around her legs. “Maybe I’m trying to see the bottom of it.”
Bianca tilted her head. “And?”
Mia let out a long breath. “I can’t see my future, and that terrifies me.
Once, I had everything mapped out. Teaching at the convent.
Marrying someone kind and ordinary. A little house, a few children.
A quiet, predictable life.” Her voice trembled.
“Now, I look at next week and can’t even imagine what it will bring.
There are no rules anymore, no boundaries.
It’s like life is something I’m supposed to live—but I don’t know how to live this one. I probably sound ridiculous.”
Bianca’s smile was faint, sad. “You make perfect sense. I thought you were so lucky, you know? Having a man like Luc Valachi. But last night…” She shuddered. “I’ve never been so afraid. And still, I knew you’d survive. Because that man would burn the world before letting anyone hurt you.”
Mia bit the inside of her cheek, tasting copper. “I don’t know if I can love someone who does the things he does. Who expects danger at every turn.”
Bianca was quiet for a moment. Then, gently: “Then don’t.”
Mia’s head snapped up. “What?”
“Don’t love the man you think he is,” Bianca said. “Love the one you see when no one’s watching.”
Mia blinked, stunned.
Bianca’s gaze didn’t waver. “The one who looks at you like you’re the only thing keeping him human.”
Mia’s throat tightened. “It’s not that simple.”
“Nothing in this world is,” Bianca replied, her tone soft but certain. “But love? That’s the only part of it that ever makes sense.”
Mia stared down at the blanket twisted in her fists, struggling to breathe past the lump in her throat. She wanted to believe it—God, she wanted to—but she knew better than to think love alone could hold together a life built on blood.
Bianca reached across the bed and took her hand. “You don’t have to decide anything right now,” she said gently. “But stop trying to be the girl you were. She’s gone, Mia. Maybe for the better.”
Mia didn’t answer. Her eyes burned, and by the time she realized she was crying, the tears were already falling. Bianca said nothing—just squeezed her hand once before standing.
At the door, she paused. “He’s not perfect. He never will be. None of us are.” A faint smile ghosted across her lips. “The real question is—do you still want him anyway?”
When the door clicked shut behind her, silence wrapped the room like a shroud. Bianca’s words echoed in the stillness, slow and relentless, like a heartbeat she couldn’t ignore.
Mia sat motionless for a long time before finally swinging her legs off the bed. She padded barefoot to the bathroom, her reflection meeting her with swollen eyes and tangled hair. With a sigh, she reached for her toothbrush—then froze.
In the corner of the mirror, the small digital calendar blinked. She frowned. Leaned closer.
Sixteen days late.
For a moment, the world tilted. She gripped the counter, breath catching in her throat. How had she not noticed?
Mia’s trembling hands drifted to her stomach. Beneath her palm, her pulse fluttered violently. A vision flashed before her—a little girl with Luc’s silver eyes. A boy with his smile.
The truth struck her with brutal clarity.
She could never let him know.
Swallowing hard, she reached for the calendar and marked the day as if her period had started. The red line glared up at her, a small, desperate lie.
Her palm flattened over her belly. “I will protect you,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “With everything that I am.”