Page 15 of Luciano

I pulled the trigger. Blood sprayed across the floor, splattering Ava’s face as Carlos collapsed, dead weight on the ground beside her. Her eyes went wide, horrified. She tried to move away, wiping at the blood she was covered in. She barely managed to push herself up before I reached down, grabbing her by the arm.

“Please…” she whimpered, her voice small. I lifted her easily, scooping her into my arms. She passed out. Shock and pain put her under.

My father had caught up with us. His face was red and he was breathing heavy. “What the hell have you done, Luciano?” he yelled, eyes blazing. Carlos’s father was one of Vito’s oldest allies, and I knew the implications of what I’d just done—and I didn’t care.

“He touched her,” I replied simply.

I lifted Ava easily, cradling her against my chest. She went limp before I even took my first step, shock and exhaustion dragging her under.

“Because he touched her? You’ve just started a war within our circle,” my father snapped.

I didn’t stop walking. Didn’t even look at him.

“I don’t care.”

I didn’t care what my father said. I didn’t care about wars, debts, his fucking empire. All I cared about was her. She was the only thing I wanted. And now that I had her, I wasn’t letting go, and I wasn’t letting anyone harm her.

She was mine to protect now.

I heard my father calling my name. I ignored him. He wouldn’t follow.

Chapter 8

Luciano

In my room, I laid her down on the bed. She was still unconscious, her breathing even though. I sat beside her for a moment. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I’d been watching her for years, flying to California when I had a chance, making sure she was safe and protected like I’d promised her.

I watched her from a distance as she built her business, as she laughed with her cousin Dewanda, as she moved through the world with a quiet strength that captivated me.

She never noticed me, even when I was right there. Once, she’d looked right at me through her, while I stood at her bedroom window. I memorized every detail about her. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the way her lips curved into a smile when she found something amusing. Her scent, her likes, her wants, her needs.

She was mine long before she knew it.

Her father’s family had done their best to shield her, to teach her how to survive. But that was for me to do now.

She belonged to me.

I had to pull myself away from her side when a wave of dizziness washed over me. The pain in my shoulder had started to throb.I stood, peeling off my blood-soaked shirt. The wound was still bleeding, but it was clean—a straight shot through.

Nothing I couldn’t handle.

In the bathroom, I cleaned it and stitched it up myself. It was just another scar.

Once I finished, I changed into a clean shirt and returned to her side. She shifted slightly in her sleep, her body tense even now, as if she could sense me watching.

I had waited years for her.

I could wait a little longer.

When she finally woke, her eyes opened slowly, blinking in the dark.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered, her voice weak but filled with anger.

“I don’t know. It’s just something I need.”

“It’s because you’re evil like your fucking daddy,” she spat, glaring at me.

I leaned closer, my voice low. “I know.” I reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She flinched but didn’t pull away. “And I’m sorry.” I couldn’t help what I was.

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