Page 21 of Luciano

I glared at him, my chest heaving, hand clenching at my side.

Why was this happening to me?

His green eyes were latched onto me, unblinking. He opened his mouth like he had more to say, then decided against it.

Turning, he walked out, leaving me alone in the room. I heard the door lock.

All I could think to do was stand there.

Then a thought crossed my mind.

Who in the fuck was Azula?

Chapter 10

Luciano

I made my way down to the basement, my footsteps echoing in the cold, damp stairwell. The air grew thicker, heavier as I approachedLa Stanza del Giudizio. Two guards stood at the entrance, their eyes snapping to attention as I approached.

“Leave,” I ordered, my voice flat.

They hesitated. “Leave,” I repeated. They all knew I rarely did that. They exchanged a quick glance before nodding and stepping away from the door. I stepped in, letting the heavy door shut behind me, leaving only me and the old man.

The once-feared old man was a pitiful sight—slumped in the metal chair, wrists and ankles bound with thick leather straps. His face was swollen, bruises mottling his skin, his lips cracked and bleeding from dehydration. But his eyes… they held no fear. No remorse.

I dragged a chair in front of him, the screech of metal against concrete slicing through the silence. I sat down, elbows resting on my knees, studying him.

“I watched you,” I murmured. “You’re good with your grandkids. I respect that. I like that you treated them well. They miss you.”

His jaw tightened, but his expression didn’t change.

“That makes you sad?” I tilted my head. “I don’t know why. Even if I hadn’t come for you, how much longer would you have left? I would think at your age you’d be settled with death.”

Tomaso remained silent.

“You know,” I continued, “your granddaughter Sarah? She’s the same age as my soon-to-be wife.” I let that settle before adding, “Ava graduated at the top of her class in high school. Seventh in business school.”

A flicker of confusion crossed his face. He wasn’t expecting this conversation.

“She’s smart,” I went on. “And stubborn. Frustratingly so. But I respect it. She built a business, made a life for herself despite having both of her parents murdered.” I exhaled slowly. “She’s capable of love.” My fingers tapped against my thigh. “I don’t understand love. But I want to. I want to be normal.” My gaze flicked around the dim room. “I want to give her a life that doesn’t involve this.”

I gestured to the darkness, to the blood-soaked past neither of us could ever escape.

“But I can’t. Because of what you did to me, Tomaso.”

Still, he said nothing.

His silence infuriated me.

My voice dropped, quieter now. “Today is the most I’ve spoken in years.” I let the words settle, heavy with truth. “I don’t talk much because of what I saw. Because of what you all did to me. I screamed loud enough for heaven to hear me, but it didn’t stop you. So I stopped trying.” I shrugged. “Most people don’t matter to me.”

“But Ava does…”

Tomaso finally made a sound, a rough, guttural laugh that turned into a cough. “What do you want from me, boy?” he rasped.

I leaned back, considering the question. “Advice,” I said simply. “You were married for quite a while?”

He nodded, slow and stiff. “Forty years,” he managed, his voice ragged.

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