Page 27 of Luciano

Why?

Because for the first time in years, I didn’t feel like I had to be on guard.

Luciano wouldn’t let anything happen to me. He wanted me enough to kill for me.

That realization should’ve terrified me. But instead, it made my eyes drift closed.

I didn’t know how long I slept before the sound of the door clicking open woke me up.

Luciano.

I could feel it was him. The air shifted when he entered a room, the temperature changing, the energy bending around him. I continued to lay stock still.

“You’re awake.” His voice was smooth, calm. He was always so calm.

I sighed, opening my eyes, blinking up at him. He stood at the edge of the bed, unmoving. He had on all black again, his crisp black shirt rolled up to his forearms, showing off his tats. He looked clean, composed—like he hadn’t just killed a man in front of me hours ago. Like he hadn’t chased me through the woods on some primal shit. He was so handsome too, reminding me of an evil version of a superhero who hid behind their glasses. I wondered what his superpower would be. Was that why he wore the glasses he obviously didn’t need?

“I have something to say,” he started. “I practiced this before I came in, so my words wouldn’t come out fragmented, cold—like earlier.”

I stayed silent, surprised at his admission.

He tilted his head slightly, removing his glasses, locking his eyes on my face.

“I’m not trying to keep you locked up, Uccellini. When we’re married, you’ll have freedom—more than most women in our world. You’ll have money. Security. A life no one can touch. You’ll have me.” His jaw tightened. “And you’ll be untouchable.”

His hands flexed against his thighs, like he was already imagining strangling the life out of anyone who dared cross me.

“No one will hurt you again. No one will take from you again. Because I will destroy them, Ava.”

I swallowed. There was something unhinged in his eyes—and I believed every word. It was oddly endearing.

“You don’t have to love me. I don’t require that from you,” he added quietly. “But you will be mine. And I’ll be yours in return.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to something almost intimate, almost gentle. “I’ve waited for this. For you. I want this.” He blinked.

I stared at him. “Okay.”

He stilled, his breath halting for just a second. “Okay?” he repeated, like he hadn’t heard me right.

“Just like that? Okay?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “I could fight you tooth and nail. Or I can take advantage of the opportunities you’re offering. Besides, would you change your mind if I said no?”

Luciano’s brows pulled together, his head tilting just slightly. “No, I would not. But your response is illogical,” he said finally.

I blinked. “What?”

“Your acquiescence,” he clarified, his tone measured and back to normal now. “You have fought every step of the way. You ran. You resisted. You fought me. You tried to kill me…” He paused, his eyes flicking briefly to his shoulder. “And yet, with no further coercion, no negotiation, no counteroffer, you suddenly concede. That is not how human behavior typically works.”

He stepped closer.

“When faced with an undesirable outcome, most people exhaust every option available before surrendering. When fighting fails...They beg, plead, attempt manipulation, or, at the very least, demand terms. You have done none of those things.”

I stared at him, trying to figure out why he was making things more difficult by overanalyzing them. I had agreed. What more did he want?

“Which leads me to conclude one of two things,” he continued. “One. You are attempting to lull me into a false sense of security before making another escape attempt. That would be unwise.” His gaze flicked down to my wrist, to the bruises forming there from my last failed attempt to run.

“Two. You are in a state of psychological exhaustion so severe that you have bypassed the stages of resistance entirely, landing at resignation. Which would mean you are more fragile than I originally assessed.”

I swallowed.

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