22. Luca
Luca
My son is still gone.
The thought shreds through the last bit of peace, replacing it with cold reality. Every second Renzo has Rafa is another second he wins. Another second I let that bastard believe he has the upper hand.
I throw the sheets off and sit up, rolling my shoulders, my muscles tight with the need for action.
I force my gaze away and stand, pulling on my pants and reaching for my shirt. There’s no time for hesitation. No room for anything but the war ahead.
Gilly has already left the room.
By the time I reach the kitchen, my men are already moving. The mansion is buzzing with quiet, controlled chaos—footsteps echoing, low murmurs of strategy being exchanged. Weapons are checked. Intel is gathered. This isn’t the attack. This is the preparation.
The scent of coffee cuts through the air, grounding me for a split second before I shove it aside.
Matteo is leaning against the kitchen counter, mug in hand, watching the scene unfold like it’s a goddamn show.
"You slept?" he asks, tilting his head.
I don’t answer.
Because he already knows the truth.
I grab a cup, even though I don’t want it. The heat burns against my palm as I take a sip, my mind already running through the latest intel.
Renzo is hiding, but not for long.
I’ve already started to cut off his cash flow lines. His men are starting to feel the squeeze. I’ve got my people tracking every move his men make, every whisper of his location. This isn’t about patience. It’s about precision.
When I move toward the war room, Matteo follows, his footsteps light but deliberate.
"You got a plan yet?" he asks.
I shoot him a sharp look. "I don’t make moves without one."
He smirks. "Right. Because everything’s going so fucking smooth right now."
I exhale sharply, gripping the edge of the table where blueprints of the city are spread out. Streets marked. Escape routes blocked. Weak spots in Renzo’s security circled in red.
This isn’t just war. This is a goddamn execution.
I turn, ready to start assigning roles, when the sound of quick, determined footsteps cuts through the tension.
Then she’s there.
Gilly.
She storms into the war room, still wearing my shirt, her jaw set, her eyes flashing with something between fury and desperation.
Matteo mutters a low curse under his breath.
I already know where this is going before she even opens her mouth.
"What’s the plan?" she demands, crossing her arms.
I barely glance at her before turning back to the maps. "You’re staying here."
The words land like a slap.
I feel her stiffen.
"Excuse me?" Her voice is sharp.
I roll my shoulders, keeping my tone even. "This isn’t your world, Gilly."
Her breath comes out in a slow, measured exhale. "It is now."
Something dark twists inside me.
She doesn’t get it. She thinks she does, but she doesn’t. This isn’t about proving something. This isn’t about courage or defiance.
It’s about survival.
And if she steps into my world, she might not make it out.
Her fingers tighten around the fabric of my shirt, knuckles going white.
"You think I’m going to sit here while my son is out there?" she grits out. "You think I’m going to play the scared little woman waiting at home while you decide his fate?"
I set my hands on the table, leaning in, meeting her glare with one of my own. "This isn’t a fucking courtroom, Gilly. This is war. And war doesn’t care what you want."
"Then teach me."
The words snap between us like a live wire.
The room goes silent.
Matteo lets out a quiet whistle, shaking his head.
I don’t break eye contact with her. She’s testing me. Pushing me.
And for the first time, I realize—she’s not backing down.
I see it in the way her chin lifts, in the fire sparking behind her eyes. She isn’t just demanding a say—she’s demanding a place in this war.
I exhale through my nose, slow and controlled, forcing myself to stay calm. She doesn’t get it.
This isn’t about proving herself. It isn’t about some desperate attempt to make up for the past. This is about getting Rafa back alive. And there’s no room for emotion in that.
But Gilly doesn’t flinch under my stare.
"Then teach me," she says again, her voice quieter this time, but no less sharp.
I grip the edge of the table, my knuckles going white. She doesn’t understand what she’s asking for.
"You think I have time for this?" I grit out. "I don’t have time to train you, Gilly. I don’t have time to make you into something you’re not."
Her fingers dig into her arms where she’s crossing them over her chest. "You don’t get to decide that for me."
Matteo hums from his spot against the wall. "She’s got a point."
I cut him a sharp look, but he only raises his hands in mock surrender, taking another slow sip of coffee. Enjoying this.
Gilly steps closer, her voice dropping to something lower, something dangerous.
"You told me the truth last night," she says. "Now I’m telling you mine. I know what it feels like to be powerless. To have my choices ripped away. And I refuse to let it happen again."
Her words slam into me harder than I expect.
I glance at Matteo, who’s watching with an unreadable expression, then back at her.
She’s breathing hard, her chest rising and falling beneath my shirt, but it’s her eyes that hold me still.
She isn’t just angry.
She’s terrified.
Not just for Rafa. For herself.
For what happens if she’s left behind.
I drag a hand down my face, inhaling sharply. "This isn’t just about you."
"No," she says. "It’s about my son. And I’m not going to sit here like some helpless, na?ve woman waiting for men to decide his fate."
I shake my head, muttering a curse under my breath. She’s impossible.
She plants her hands on the table, mirroring my stance. "You either let me help, or you lock me up. But I promise you, Luca, if you try to keep me out of this, I will find my own way in."
Matteo lets out a low chuckle. "Damn. She really is one of us."
I snap.
I turn and grab Matteo’s collar, shoving him back against the wall before he can react. His coffee spills, the mug crashing to the floor.
His smirk is gone, replaced with something sharper, something deadly.
The room is silent.
Matteo holds my gaze, then exhales, shaking his head. "You’re so goddamn tense, brother."
I release him with a shove, my breathing tight, my muscles locked.
I don’t have time for this.
Gilly watches me, her lips parted slightly, her pulse hammering in her throat. She should look afraid. She should back off.
But she doesn’t.
She just steps into the silence like she belongs here.
I grip the back of a chair, forcing myself to push past the chaos in my chest.
"Fine."
Her eyes widen slightly, but I don’t let her speak.
"You want to be in this?" I say, my voice cold. "You do what I say. No arguments. No second-guessing me. No fucking heroics."
She doesn’t even hesitate. "Agreed."
Matteo laughs under his breath. "You’re actually letting her in?"
I shoot him a look. "She’s in whether I want her to be or not. At least this way, she won’t get herself killed doing something stupid."
Gilly’s shoulders relax slightly, but her hands are still clenched at her sides.
I run my tongue over my teeth, already regretting this.
Because she doesn’t belong in this world.
And yet, here she is.
I should have forced her out. Locked her in the mansion. Made sure she never stepped foot into this war.
But I didn’t.
Because some part of me knows the truth.
She was always going to fight.
And now?
She’s fighting beside me.
I push away from the table, dragging a hand down my face as the weight of this decision settles deep in my chest. There’s no undoing this now. Gilly isn’t just here—she’s in this. And whether I fucking like it or not, I have to find a way to make sure she survives it.
Matteo lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Well, shit. Never thought I’d see the day.”
I shoot him a sharp look. “See what?”
He gestures lazily toward Gilly, who’s still standing across from me, her spine straight, her hands clenched at her sides. “You. Taking orders from your little hellcat.”
I exhale sharply, turning my attention back to the maps spread across the table. “She’s not giving orders.”
Matteo smirks but doesn’t argue.
Gilly, on the other hand, steps closer. “So what’s next?” Her voice is firm, but there’s an edge to it. A quiet urgency that tightens something in my chest.
She doesn’t trust me.
Not completely.
She thinks if she doesn’t push, if she doesn’t force herself into this war, I’ll shut her out.
And maybe a part of me wants to.
Not because she doesn’t belong here.
But because the second she steps into this world, she’s never getting out.
I nod toward Matteo. “Update her.”
Matteo raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t question it. He steps forward, tapping one of the maps with two fingers. “Renzo’s running out of options,” he says. “We’ve been cutting off his resources—cash, weapons, men. He’s bleeding. But he’s still got one thing keeping him on top.”
Gilly doesn’t hesitate. “Rafa.”
Matteo nods. “Exactly. As long as he has your son, he’s got leverage. He knows Luca won’t risk moving in too fast. Won’t risk a sloppy job.”
I cross my arms, jaw tightening. “But he’s also running out of time. If he was smart, he would have disappeared already.”
Matteo shrugs. “He’s always been arrogant. He thinks he’s got more time than he does.”
Gilly swallows, her fingers pressing into the edge of the table. “So where is he?”
I hesitate for a beat. Not because I don’t have an answer. But because I know the second I give it, the second this plan becomes real, there’s no turning back.
Matteo answers for me. “We’ve narrowed it down to three locations. Safe houses he’s used in the past. Two are on the outskirts of the city, one’s closer to the docks. We’re running surveillance, but so far, nothing.”
Gilly looks between us, her brows furrowing. “Then how do we know which one he’s in?”
I glance at Matteo. He doesn’t say a word. Just waits.
Because this is the part she won’t like.
I level my gaze on her. “We draw him out.”
She blinks. “How?”
I lean forward, bracing my hands against the table. “By making him think he’s already lost.”
She exhales slowly, but she doesn’t look away. “Explain.”
I nod toward one of my men, who steps forward, a small stack of papers in his hands. “We’re going to spread false intel. Make it look like one of his own men has betrayed him. Leak just enough information to make him paranoid. To make him desperate.”
Matteo grins. “Then we let him run.”
Gilly’s expression tightens. “And if he doesn’t?”
I meet her gaze, my voice even. “Then we burn every single one of those compounds to the ground until we find him.”
A flicker of something crosses her face. Fear. Determination.
She nods once. “When do we start?”
Matteo laughs under his breath. “You’re really all in now, huh?”
She doesn’t even look at him. “I was always in.”
I stare at her for a long moment before straightening. “It starts now.”
Matteo tosses his empty coffee cup onto the table and cracks his knuckles. “Then let’s get to work.”
Gilly doesn’t move. Not right away.
She watches me, something unreadable in her eyes. And for the first time, I don’t try to figure it out.
Because it doesn’t matter.
Not right now.
Right now, the only thing that matters is getting my son back.
And making sure Renzo doesn’t live long enough to regret taking him.