Page 21 of Silent Night With Luca

I hearher stir before I see her awaken. Her body shifts beneath the blankets. I’m at her side in an instant, kneeling next to the couch, watching as her lashes flicker and her face twists with the effort of waking up.

She looks like hell, pale and drawn. Her lips are still cracked and dry, her hair a tangled mess. But it’s theexhaustion, the pain in her face, that hits me hardest. Seeing her like this is a gut punch like I’ve never experienced. My chest tightens and a knot forms in my throat that I try to swallow down.

She stirs again, her voice raspy and barely above a whisper. “Luca…”

“I’m here,” I say softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re safe. I sent for chicken noodle soup and your favorite tea, but if you want something else, I’ll get it for you.”

She shakes her head slightly, her lips barely moving. “Water, please. I need water.”

“Of course,” I murmur. I help her sit up, keeping the blankets wrapped tight around her, though I can see how cold she still is as her teeth chatter. I grab a glass from the table, tilting it carefully to her lips as she sips slowly.

The room is quiet except for the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth. The massive tree in the corner glows faintly, its lights casting a warm shimmer over the room.

Outside, the sun’s setting, the blue snow reflecting back through the windows, making the world seem peaceful—at least from in here. But the peace doesn’t reach me. Not even close.

I sit beside her on the couch, still watching her closely, trying to read her. She keeps the blanket pulled tight around her, still fighting off the chill. My heart breaks seeing her like this. She looks fragile and defeated.

Finally, she speaks. Her voice cracks as she begins, and I listen carefully, every word cutting through the quiet like a blade.

“I thought it was housekeeping,” she says, her voice small, shaky. A gentle knock jolted me awake from my sleep on the couch. I ordered towels the night before, and I thought it was them.”

Her eyes glaze over, filling with tears she tries to hold back. “When I opened the door, someone grabbed me. I didn’t even see who it was before they… They must have drugged me.”

I tense beside her, my fists clenching as I try to hold myself back, the rage rising like a wave. For her sake, I keep it in check. For now.

“They drove me somewhere,” she continues, her voice barely holding together. “I don’t know where. It was dark, cold. Then I saw him. It was Marco. He told me… he told me I was his ticket out of the shadows of his brother. He said… he said I was supposed to be his… in some twisted way.” She takes a shaky breath, her tears now streaming down her cheeks.

I don’t say a word, while I watch as her hands tremble. She’s fighting to get it out, and all I can do is be here, let her speak. The way he treated her, the way he had her tied up, I want to hunt him down and put a bullet between his eyes. Every word she says makes my blood boil.

“When I told him a couple of months ago that we couldn’t fool around anymore,” she says through tears, “he was angry but I had no idea it was to this level. This morning he told I was supposed to marry him, that he had plans. Luca, I swear, I had no idea about any of this.”

“Shhh. I know. It’s okay. This isn’t your fault.” I know saying this now must seem hollow to her, I’ve been hammering it into her that fucking around with Marco iswhat brought all of this on. But I know that isn’t entirely true. She isn’t to blame for this. If anyone is, I am.

“I didn’t want anything to do with him. I thought… I thought it was over. When he walked out of the shadows in that place they had me tied up, I honestly couldn’t believe my eyes.” She covers her face with her hands, shaking. “He told me he was going to use me to lure all of you to him and I knew I couldn’t let that happen.”

I reach out, placing my hand on her arm gently, trying to offer some comfort.

She looks at me through wet lashes. “I played along, hoping that if I made him believe I wanted to be with him, I could convince him to let me go. I persuaded him to let me go so I could infiltrate my family and help him take them down from the inside. I told him what I thought he wanted to hear.”

“That was actually shrewd, Fiamma. You did exactly the right thing.”

Her sobs break the silence, raw and painful. My throat tightens. “When he insisted I run barefoot through the woods, when he said that was the only way it would be believable, I wasn’t sure I’d survive. But I knew my odds were better out there, in the cold, than staying with him. Letting him use me, or do who knows what to me.” She shudders and the sobs continue.

I’ve never seen anyone cry like this, certainly not Fiamma. She’s broken, vulnerable, and my heart aches seeing her like this. Her hands and ankles bear the marks—the raw, red ligature marks from where she was bound.

I swallow hard, my own emotions knotting in my chest, but I don’t let them show. This isn’t about me. It’s important for me to be strong, to let her know she is safe and that I will protect her.

She looks up at me, her red and splotchy, her voice barely audible. “I don’t remember much after I ran. When I saw you I knew I was safe.”

I’ve never heard sweeter words. If I weren’t a grown man, I might lose it completely right here. But I keep my emotions in check because I am not supposed to have feelings.

I pull her into my arms, wrapping her up in the blankets as she sobs quietly into my chest. I don’t say anything. Words feel too small right now. Instead, I hold her close, brushing her hair back as she trembles against me. She trusts me enough to tell me everything. It’s more than just gratitude—it’s something deeper. Something neither of us is ready to say.

For now, I’ll just be here. I’ll protect her. I’ll make sure Marco pays for what he’s done. But right now, all that matters is Fiamma. Safe. Alive. And with me.

EIGHT

Fiamma

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