Page 113 of Her Dark Salvation

I chewed the side of my fingernail. “Have you heard any news about Luca?”

“No.” His reply was clipped and gruff.

“Have you—have you asked?”

“No. I told you. I’m done.”

“Gina isn’t.”

Marco’s jaw worked.

Despite his tough exterior, this thing with Luca was killing him. He’d never be able to walk away as easily as he wanted everyone to believe. Luca was his son.

He glanced at me and must have seen the concern in my face because he frowned. “Gina and Vinnie have known each other their whole lives. She’ll check on Luca herself.”

I didn’t argue even though I knew cutting Luca out of his life wouldn’t make him happy, not in the long run. Especially considering how it affected his relationship with his sister.

“I know you talk to Vinnie, now that you two have your…” I swallowed, still struggling to discuss Mafia matters with my husband. “Arrangement.”

“With conditions,” Marco interjected sharply.

“With conditions,” I amended.

Marco had been clear when he outlined the details of his newly formed alliance with the Valenzanos. There were non-negotiable conditions—no drugs and no weapons the two lynchpins. Vinnie and his crew acknowledged him as Don DeVita, marking his official reentrance into Cosa Nostra and establishing him as the head of a second family in control of the Boston Italian Mafia. He assured me, and I believed him, that his intention was to protect blood demons and their Sources from the feds, nothing more. He and Vinnie still needed to work through the details, and the new arrangement would be an adjustment, but he was already more at ease than he’d been since we’d met.

“Now that you have this arrangement, I know you talk to him, and I know he’s responsible for Luca’s future. You could ask.”

He placed his hand on my thigh and squeezed. He was quiet for several minutes, pensively staring down the long stretch of turnpike.

“I had to let Luca go, Anna.” His voice cracked, and the muscles in his jaw twitched, the telltale sign he was trying to control his emotions. “I can’t protect him anymore. I tried to raise him right, tried to do right by Tony, but that’s all I could do. He needs to live his life and accept the consequences of his actions.” He looked at me for a brief moment. “We all do.”

He was right, of course, and I was proud of him for admitting it. The weight of responsibility Marco carried for those he loved was heavy. And he loved so passionately and thoroughly. He’d finally let go of the impossible burden, and as difficult as it was, he’d known it was the only path to peace and happiness.

Our comfortable silence returned as we followed the off-ramp north toward Amherst. Soon, we exited the interstate into my old neighborhood and turned onto my parents’ street. Marco parked the Range Rover in front of my parents’ little slice of suburbia and turned off the car.

He reached across the seat, shoved his hand into my hair, and wrapped his thick fingers around the nape of my neck, pulling me to him. His lips moved tenderly over mine, and he slid his tongue into my mouth telling me how much he loved me with a slow, passionate kiss.

He leaned his forehead against mine. “No more talk of Luca or the Mafia or the feds or any of it today, okay?”

“Okay.”

“It’ll all still be there when we get home. I know things are messy, and I will deal with it, but today is about you and me and your parents. I don’t want the heaviness to ruin our time together.”

“Thank you.” I pulled away so I could look him in the eyes. I took his face between my hands. “I love you.”

“Good, because I plan on loving you for eternity.”

Epilogue

Luca

Fuzzy outlines and dull colors materialized under the glow of a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. My shoulders and head ached. They throbbed in time with my pulse, every beat fresh agony. I blinked, trying to clear my vision, and realized I was only seeing out of one eye. I moved to touch the other—was it missing or swollen shut?—but my arm wouldn’t obey. My wrist snagged on rope, and the tight fibers stung my raw skin.

Awareness surfaced through the pain. My wrists were tied together, arms stretched overhead, and my body hung from the rope binding them. My vision solidified with each additional blink. I tipped my head to see the solid object beneath my feet, and a wave of nausea barreled through me. I dry-heaved until it passed.

A stool teetered under my slack legs. I pushed against it, trying to take the strain out of my shoulders. Rough wood scratched the soles of my bare feet. I pressed myself up, and pain radiated up my legs from my knees. I groaned.

Footsteps echoed through the warehouse that was taking shape around me. The silhouette of a man approached from across the room. Another man sat at a table to my left.

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