Page 31 of Silent Night With Luca

The tension builds with every passing second. All we have to do now is wait.

Through the crackin the closet door, I watch the door to the room from the hall, my breath steady but my pulse hammering in my ears. The dim light from the spa room casts long shadows, and everything feels too calm, too quiet. Perfect.

Adrian’s voice buzzes softly in my earpiece, his words clipped and efficient. “He’s in. Alone. Coming your way.”

I grip my Benelli MP 95E tighter, the silencer in place, focus locked on the door. Marco took the bait—just like we wanted. Fiamma’s note told him the back door would be left open for him and that everyone would be in town at the parade. All of it led him right into our hands.

“I see him now, strutting down the hallway like he owns the place. He’s got that cocky swagger, like a peacock with his feathers out,” Adrian whispers to me through my earpiece. That silence he’s walking in—it’s not his shield. It’s the countdown to his end.

Marco must have paused outside the door with his hand hovering over the handle because I see the knob twist slowly without the door opening. He thinks he’s got this all figured out. He thinks the Lucianas are about to fall into his lap, but he has no idea what’s waiting for him.

He pushes the door open slowly, the creak almost silent. From my vantage point, I see the fake masseuse, her back to Marco, leaning over Lima on the table, her handsrubbing his shoulders. Everything’s set up perfectly, right down to the smallest detail.

Marco raises his Beretta and points it directly at her back, ready to pull the trigger. But before he can fire, I step out of the closet, my gun already aimed.

BANG!

The shot hits him square in the right shoulder, sending him flying backward with a grunt. His gun goes off, the bullet burying itself in the ceiling as he hits the ground hard. He groans, clutching his shoulder, as shock spreads across his face.

Adrian bursts in from the other room, his handgun drawn, his face twisted into a cold smirk. I walk forward, my Benelli still trained on Marco’s face, who’s writhing on the floor, blood soaking through his jacket.

“You messed with the wrong family,” I say, my voice steady as I kneel beside him, pressing the barrel of my gun on his forehead. His face contorts with fear, his breathing ragged.

“Wait—wait—” Marco stammers, his voice a desperate rasp. “You don’t have to do this?—”

“Shut up.” I lean in closer, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You got outsmarted by a woman. Fiamma Luciana made a fool out of you. You really thought she’d be with someone like you? You pathetic piece of shit.”

Marco’s cocky bullshit is gone, replaced with raw fear. His lips tremble as blood oozes from the corner of his mouth. “Please… I’ll disappear. You won’t see me again.”

I laugh, cold and cruel, enjoying the look of terror on his face. “Disappear? No, Marco. Your death is going to be a message. To the Vitales, to anyone who thinks they can touch the Lucianas. You don’t come after us. Not now. Not ever.”

Adrian steps forward, his face twisted in disgust as he stares down at Marco and spits on his face. “You’re just like your father, thinking you can take what isn’t yours. He managed to kill my old man, sure. But where did it get him? He got taken down because he was too stupid to know when to quit. Same goes for you. The hubris of your bunch has no end.”

Marco’s breathing turns ragged, his body trembling beneath the weight of Adrian’s words. He tries to speak, but the only sound that escapes is a strangled gasp.

I stand, looking down at him with a cold, calculating gaze. “I could let you live, torture you a bit before you meet your ultimate end, but I don’t have any more time to waste on the absolute garbage of a man you are. You’ve taken up more than I wanted, anyway. So say your last prayer, asshole.”

Marco pleads with me, his mouth opening in a silent scream as I press it harder. I pause, savoring the moment, then pull the trigger.

The bullet tears through his skull, blood spraying across the floor. His body goes limp immediately. What’s left of his face spills out on the tile floor.

Adrian looks down at the mess, then back up at me, his expression unreadable. “Brutal. But clean.”

I wipe the blood from my hands, the adrenaline still surging through me. “He deserved worse. He’s lucky I got a little Christmas cheer today.”

Adrian smiles an evil smile and shakes his head. He steps back to take one last look at the lifeless body on the ground. “Make sure the cleanup crew knows to make it look like an accident. Marco Vitale won’t be walking out of here, but his death won’t spark a war. Let’s keep it that way.”

I holster my Benelli and step over Marco’s body. “No one will miss him. Give him a pair of cement shoes and get him the fuck out of here,” Adrian says to Lima, the decoy doubling as a cleaner.

The doorto Fiamma’s suite creaks open, and the moment I step inside, I see her pacing the room, her hands fidgeting nervously.

The second she spots me, she smiles, and runs across the room, throwing her arms around me. Her grip is tight, almost desperate, as if she needs to feel me there, alive, solid.

“Are you okay?” she asks breathlessly, pulling back just enough to look up at me. Her gaze drops to my shirt, and her face pales. “Luca, is that blood? Are you hurt?”

I shake my head, giving her a small, reassuring smile. “I’m fine. It’s not mine.”

Relief washes over her features, but she’s still tense. Her hands move to the buttons of my shirt, undoing them withquick, deliberate motions. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

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