Page 49 of Luciano

I swallowed hard, my breath uneven. I was confused. I was scared. My body ached, my face ached. My mind was struggling to keep up with what the fuck was going on. I just stood there.

Brooker pulled out his own phone, muttering under his breath when he got the same result. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Just wait,” he said. “They’re coming.”

Aria didn’t look at him.

Her eyes were on Matteo, bound and broken, barely holding on she looked at him like that wasn’t enough, like she wanted hissoul too. She took a slow step forward, tilting her head slightly as she studied him.

She moved. Quick when she reached out, grabbed Matteo’s jaw in her hand, digging her long acrylics into his face. A big diamond gleamed on her ring finger, making me glance at my own, which was just as big. In twenty-four hours I had been forced to marry, kidnapped, and abused.

Florida fucking sucked.

Matteo groaned weakly, eyes fluttering open just enough to look at her.

“Stay woke, motherfucker,” she taunted, fingers digging further into his bruised skin.

The sound of tires on gravel made us all pause.

She let Matteo go.

Engines. Multiple. Could be heard—then they all went silent.

Brooker exhaled, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Them crazy motherfuckers here.” He shook his head.

Aria stepped away from Matteo, smoothing down the front of her dress like she was getting ready for pictures. A smile curved her lips.

“Brooker, beloved. Could you give me a second alone with Ava?”

I wondered why she wanted me alone. I wouldn’t lie and say my heart rate didn’t spike a little.

She walked over and whispered in my ear, squeezing my shoulder before she walked off toward the front of the warehouse. I didn’t know what to do, so I stood stock still. I couldn’t look at Matteo—his wheezing was getting worse.

The moment she stepped through the open doors, I heard him.

Luciano.

His voice—low and calm, but lethal in the way only his could be.

I exhaled, my whole body trembling.

It was over.

Chapter 23

Saint

The road stretched ahead like a black river, the convoy of SUVs cutting through the night, fast and silent. We were moving with purpose. With blood in our veins and war on our backs.

My grip on my gun was too tight. My jaw felt like it might snap from how hard I was clenching it.

What the fuck was she thinking?

“She won’t listen,” I growled, more to myself than to Luciano. “Doesn’t fucking listen.”

He didn’t answer. Of course, he didn’t. He was sitting there like a goddamn statue, staring ahead. He was in a dark place. I could feel it radiating off him.

I knew him.

Luciano wasn’t calm.

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