17. Gilly
Gilly
I should feel safe.
Luca’s men are driving me home from the courthouse. Rafa is tucked against my side, his small body warm and trusting.
But something feels wrong.
The SUV rolls down the highway, the steady hum of the engine blending with the soft sound of Rafa’s breathing. His tiny fingers are curled into the fabric of my dress, his head resting against my arm. He’s exhausted from the long day, from the trial, from everything.
I stroke his curls absently, staring out the tinted window. Miami blurs past in streaks of gold and blue, the late afternoon sun turning the ocean into molten fire.
Everything looks normal.
But normal doesn’t exist in my world anymore.
I can feel the shift in the air.
One of Luca’s men is driving. Another sits in the passenger seat, silent, watchful.
I don’t know their names. Luca trusts them—that’s all that’s supposed to matter.
But trust means nothing to me anymore.
The driver glances at me in the rearview mirror. Our eyes meet for a fraction of a second.
"Almost there," he says.
Something about the way he says it makes my stomach clench.
It’s too smooth.
Too controlled.
I tighten my grip on Rafa.
A park entrance comes into view ahead. And standing just beyond the gates, waiting, is Carmen.
The SUV slows to a stop near the curb.
Carmen stands a few feet away, wringing her hands. Her brown eyes dart between the car and the street, like she’s waiting for something.
Guilt prickles at the back of my mind.
I fought Luca hard for this—for her to see Rafa. But now that we’re here, unease slithers down my spine.
I shouldn’t feel this way.
Carmen was there for us when no one else was. She took care of Rafa before Luca took us. She was kind, patient. A lifeline in the middle of chaos.
So why does she look so damn nervous?
"Mama?" Rafa stirs, his sleepy voice breaking through my thoughts. His big green eyes blink up at me, then shift toward the window.
The second he sees her, his face lights up.
"Carmen!"
He squirms against me, his little hands pushing at my arms, eager to get to her.
I hesitate for a second too long.
Carmen takes a step closer. Her smile is tight, her voice careful.
"Se?ora," she says softly. "I just want to see him. Please."
I swallow the lump in my throat.
I fought for this.
I have to let go.
I force a smile, ignoring the weight pressing down on my chest.
"Go on, baby," I whisper. "Go say hi."
The second I loosen my hold, Rafa pushes the door open and throws himself into Carmen’s arms.
She catches him with a soft laugh, wrapping him up tight, like she’s afraid to let go.
Something is wrong.
I can feel it.
Carmen lowers her face, pressing her lips to Rafa’s ear.
She whispers something.
Something I can’t hear.
And then—
Gunfire.
A single crack splits the air.
My body locks up.
Another gunshot. Then another.
Then—chaos.
A black van screeches around the corner, tires screaming against the pavement.
I turn toward it, my heart slamming against my ribs.
The doors fly open.
Men. Armed. Masked. Moving fast.
Rafa lets out a tiny gasp—a sound I’ll never forget.
And Carmen—
Carmen runs.
With Rafa in her arms.
Straight toward the van.
I freeze.
My brain refuses to catch up with what I’m seeing.
Carmen. Running. With Rafa.
No.
This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening.
But the van is there, its engine snarling like a beast waiting to devour. The masked men are moving, shouting in Spanish, their voices sharp and urgent.
And Carmen—
She isn’t stopping.
She isn’t turning back.
She’s taking him.
Something inside me snaps.
"Rafa!"
I launch forward, my legs pumping, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. The world narrows down to that black van, to Carmen’s arms wrapped tight around my son.
I reach for him—so close, so close.
Then—hands clamp around my waist, yanking me back.
"No!" I thrash, kicking wildly, trying to break free.
The grip on me tightens.
"Get down, Gilly!" one of Luca’s men barks in my ear. "We’re under fire!"
Gunshots. So many gunshots.
Bullets slam into the pavement, kicking up dust and debris.
The scent of burning rubber, gasoline, and gunpowder fills my lungs.
I barely process it. I don’t care.
I twist and claw at the arms restraining me. "Let me go!"
Across the park, Carmen reaches the van.
One of the masked men yanks the door open.
Rafa squirms, his little face twisted in fear.
"Mama!" he sobs, reaching for me. "Mama!"
I lose it.
I slam my elbow back, connecting with something solid. A grunt of pain. The arms holding me loosen just enough—
I rip free. I run.
But I’m too late.
Carmen shoves Rafa into the van.
The doors slam shut.
The tires squeal.
The van rockets forward, speeding away—taking my baby with it.
Another car screeches to a halt at the curb.
I barely register it. All I can see is the disappearing van.
My knees hit the pavement.
My hands press against the cold asphalt. My chest is heaving, but I can’t breathe.
He’s gone.
My son is gone.
A door slams behind me.
Footsteps. Measured. Controlled.
And then—
"Luca," I whisper, my voice shattered.
I don’t need to turn around to know it’s him.
His presence is a force of nature. Cold. Heavy. I can feel his rage settling over the scene like a storm about to break.
I lift my head, turning toward him.
He stands still, too still, his jaw clenched, his green eyes tracking the van as it disappears down the road.
Luca doesn’t panic.
He doesn’t shout, doesn’t curse.
He watches. Calculating. Silent. Dangerous.
The calm before the carnage.
And then, finally, he speaks.
His voice is lethal.
"Who did this?"
I swallow back a sob. My body shakes as I force out the name.
"Carmen."
Luca doesn’t blink.
He doesn’t ask if I’m sure. He doesn’t hesitate.
He just calmly reloads his gun.
"Good," he says, his voice eerily quiet. "Now I don’t have to show mercy."
Luca’s words don’t hit me all at once.
"Good. Now I don’t have to show mercy."
They settle in my bones, heavy, suffocating. A death sentence wrapped in quiet certainty.
I stare at him, my body trembling, my mind still catching up.
He’s already moving.
With one sharp motion, he holsters his gun, his entire frame taut with cold, focused fury.
Luca Marchesi is about to burn the world down.
And God help anyone who stands in his way.
---
Everything is a blur.
Luca’s men are still securing the area. Two of them are barking orders into their earpieces. Another drags one of the gunmen across the pavement, leaving a smear of blood behind.
None of it matters.
Rafa isn’t here.
I sway where I kneel on the asphalt, my body weak, my stomach twisting. Shock and fear have rooted themselves deep inside me, but I can’t let them win.
I have to move.
I have to do something.
Luca crouches in front of me, his large hands curling around my wrists. His grip isn’t tight, but it’s unbreakable.
"Gilly."
I shake my head, my breath coming too fast. "We have to go after them. We have to—"
"We will."
"But—"
His fingers tighten just slightly, demanding my focus.
I look at him, really look at him.
His expression is unreadable.
But his eyes—they are pure, merciless intent.
"I will get our son back," he says, his voice a lethal promise. "Do you understand me?"
I nod frantically. Because I have to believe him.
Because if I don’t—I’ll break.
Luca straightens, shifting effortlessly back into command mode. He fires off orders in rapid succession.
"Find that van."
"Lock down the city."
"I want Renzo’s entire network bleeding by sundown."
His men snap into action. Phones ring, commands are relayed. A machine of destruction set into motion.
But it isn’t enough.
I grab Luca’s arm. "What if—"
"Don’t," he warns, his tone razor-sharp.
I flinch. I don’t care if he’s angry.
I don’t care if he’s on the edge of violence.
I care about one thing.
"Our son," I whisper, my voice breaking. "Rafa is scared, Luca. He doesn’t know what’s happening. What if they hurt him? What if—"
Luca moves so fast I barely see it coming.
His hands frame my face, forcing me to look at him.
"He is alive." His words are a command, an unshakable truth.
"How do you know that?" I breathe.
His jaw tightens. "Because if Renzo wanted him dead, he wouldn’t have taken him."
The implication makes me sick.
They didn’t steal Rafa to kill him.
They stole him to use him.
I grip Luca’s wrists, grounding myself in his strength. "Then we don’t have time. We have to—"
"I know."
Luca drops his hands, stepping back. "Get in the car."
I hesitate. There’s something in his voice, something final.
"Luca—"
"Now, Gilly."
His men are already moving.
Two SUVs roar to life. The scene around us is still chaotic, but Luca is calm.
Too calm.
I don’t fight him. Not now.
But as I slide into the car, my pulse pounding, I know one thing for sure.
I’ve never seen Luca like this.
And that scares me more than anything.
Luca slides into the car beside Gilly, his gun resting on his thigh.
His voice is low, final. "I’m going to kill every single one of them."