Page 8 of Silent Night With Luca

I glance back as casually as I can, my heart thudding in my chest. At first, it looks like any other car—just headlights cutting through the snowy streets. But then, as the car creeps closer, I recognize the driver. Shit.

“That’s one of Marco’s guys,” I whisper, a chill crawling down my spine that has nothing to do with the snow outside. What the fuck are they doing here?

Luca doesn’t say anything. He just takes a sharp right turn, the colorful Christmas lights blurring in my peripheral vision as we veer off the main road. Another turn, then another. The car behind us sticks close, too close. Luca nailed it. This guy is definitely following us.

“They’re not backing off,” I murmur.

“They won’t,” Luca replies calmly, taking another corner. “Hold on.”

Without warning, he swerves into a narrow alleyway. The holiday decorations disappear as if the absence of the cheer somehow allows for the underbelly to still operate in the shadows. We enter the dark back streets, and before I can fully process what’s happening, Luca’s out of the car, gun in hand.

“Don’t get out of the car. I mean it.” He slams the door and disappears his body against a brick wall, the shadow shrouding him.

I watch, heart pounding, as the car following us drives by the alley a few seconds later. The headlights flash briefly before Luca fires. The shot is deafening in the narrow alley, and the car swerves wildly before crashing into a lamppost, causing a hanging wreath to fall to the ground. Flames flicker under the hood, casting an eerie glow over the alley.

My breath catches in my throat. The car’s front end is crumpled like paper, and flames lick at the snow-covered pavement. Christmas lights from the surrounding buildings flicker in the background, somehow making the burning car wrapped around a lamppost look even more foreboding than it is.

Luca’s back in the driver’s seat before I can even react, his face hard and focused. “Fuck me,” he snaps. He throws the car in drive and screeches off down the alley in the opposite direction. I watch the flames grow behind us as we speed away.

I grip the bottle of vodka like a lifeline as Luca guns the engine and screeches as he takes a right, leaving the scene out of my line of vision. My heart races, and I steal a glance, certain someone will be chasing after us. All I see is dark gray smoke rising above the buildings as we pull onto the main road.

“Did you—did you just kill him?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Luca doesn’t look at me, his focus fixed on the road. “Probably. Doesn’t matter. We need to get out of here before someone notices. Whether it’s Marco’s men or the cops, neither one will bring us any Christmas cheer.”

I sink back into my seat, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. The snow outside seems to fall heaviernow, the twinkling colored lights from the passing houses feel both surreal and distant.

THREE

Luca

The cold bites harder than usual tonight. The snow is falling steadily, soft and thick, blanketing the streets in an almost peaceful quiet. Little white lights twinkle on every street corner, wreaths hang on doorways, and there’s a soft glow from the windows of shops still open late. It’s like a holiday postcard—cheerful, bright, and completely oblivious to the darkness just beneath the surface.

I glance over at Fiamma. She’s sitting next to me in the car, arms crossed over her chest, pouting like a kid who didn’t get what she wanted. I can feel the tension radiating off her, and it’s been like this ever since we left that alley. She hasn’t said much, but her silence speaks volumes.

She’s still got the vodka bottle unopened between her legs, so I supposed that is a plus.

We pull up to the meeting spot, an old, rundown bar on the edge of town. The lights outside flicker, half the sign missing, the rest faded from years of neglect. It’s the kind ofplace you go to forget, the kind of place where no one asks questions. I told Adrian I needed to get out of the downtown area in case someone else saw my car leaving the alley.

I cut the engine, turning to her. “Stay close.”

She doesn’t answer, just gives me a side-eye and tugs her coat tighter around her. Typical. She puts the liter of alcohol on the floorboard and opens the car door.

We step out into the snow, the wind biting at my face as I lead her toward the door. Inside, the bar smells like stale beer and smoke. It’s dimly lit, the kind of place that feels like it’s stuck in time.

A few regulars huddle at the bar, their eyes half-lidded as they nurse their drinks. They don’t look up when we walk in. Good.

Adrian’s already here, sitting at a back table. He looks up when he sees us, and there’s nothing but anger on his face. He barely acknowledges me before his gaze lands on Fiamma, his jaw tightening.

“Perfect,” he mutters as we approach the table. “You’ve managed to ruin Christmas for the entire family, Fiamma. Congratulations.”

I see her bristle beside me, her pout turning into a full-blown scowl. But she doesn’t say anything. Not yet.

Adrian doesn’t wait for her to respond. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Marco’s men are in town because of you. This whole thing—this mess—it’s on you. Goddammit.”

“Adrian,” I start, but he cuts me off with a sharp look.

“No, Luca. She needs to hear this. We’re all in danger because of her decisions. She thought she could play games with Marco Vitale, and now look where we are. A small, peaceful town, filled with holiday tourists, and we’ve brought the devil to their doorstep. Great fucking call, Fiamma.”

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