Page 2 of Silent Night With Luca

I keep moving, slow, deliberate, like a predator closing in. “You’re not in charge here.”

My fingers twitch, aching to grab her, to shake some fucking sense into her. But something darker coils inside me. Something that makes me want to see her fear for a little while longer.

Her wild eyes dart from the wall to the shadowy corners of the alley. The weight of what she’s done—what she’s run into—is starting to sink in. She’s not stupid. She realizes I’ve won.

“Fiamma,” I say her name softly, like a warning. “If I wanted to hurt you, I already would’ve.”

But the way I say it, even I am not sure if it’s the truth. I could hurt her. I could do a lot more than that, and she knows it. At this moment, since she has likely ruined my Gucci boots and made me run around the Godforsaken town in the fucking freezing cold, my fury has no bounds.

I’m close enough to touch her. To drag her back. And for a moment, I let the fear sit between us, thick and heavy.

“You’re cooked,” I say, voice steady.

She shakes her head, defiance blazing in her eyes again. “You can’t make me come with you. I’d rather die fighting you than surrender to you.”

I smile, but it’s not friendly. “You sure about that? We can make that happen.”

Her breath hitches, and for a second, she glances past me, back toward the mouth of the alley. She’s considering running again. Thinking about it, weighing her options.

But she doesn’t know what I know. The shadows aren’t empty.

If I let her run again, she’ll be dead by the time she reaches the street.

“Do you have any idea what’s waiting for you out there?” I ask, my voice sharp, cutting through the cold. “You think I’m the worst thing coming for you tonight?”

Her face pales, but her chin lifts, still defiant. “Do you think this is my first rodeo? I can handle myself.”

“You’re gonna handle yourself right into a grave if left to your own devices.”

She flinches, and something in me snaps. Before she can react, I grab her, pulling her against me, hard enough that her breath rushes out in a startled gasp. My hand locks around her wrist, and I spin her, pushing her face-first against the brick wall. The shock of it sends a shiver through her, and she stiffens, a soft whimper escaping her lips.

Good. She should be scared.

I lean in, my chest pressing against her back, my lips grazing her ear as I whisper, “I’m the only thing standing between you and them.”

Her breath is ragged, shallow, and I feel her body tremble against mine. But she doesn’t move. She doesn’t fight.

She knows I’m not lying.

I can feel the pulse at her throat, quick and panicked, and I press her harder against the wall, my grip tightening on her wrist. She tries to turn her head, but I don’t let her. She’s going to hear me—really hear me.

“If I let go of you,” I murmur, “you won’t make it out of this alley alive. You’ll be on your knees, bleeding, before you even see them coming.”

She’s still, too still, her breathing the only sound between us.

I let the silence stretch, let her fear sink in. Then, I pull her back, turning her to face me. Her wide eyes lock on mine, and for the first time tonight, I see it—real fear.

“You’re coming with me,” I say again, my voice harder this time. “And you’re going to listen. Because if you don’t, I’m not saving your ass twice.”

I yank her forward, pulling her out of the alley and back toward the market. She stumbles, nearly slipping on the ice, but I keep her upright, my grip on her arm firm, unrelenting.

Who the fuck wears high heels in seven inches of snow and ice?

“Luca, what the fuck are you doing?”

I whip around and see Arianna Palmira walking up. Where the fuck did she come from?

“What are you doing here, Arianna?”

---