Page 13 of The Omega Accountant

"Good."Iopened the car door myself, sliding into the back seat whereLucawaited, tension evident in every line of his body.Hisscent had soured with anxiety, the honey notes buried beneath stress pheromones that triggered my protective instincts like a physical blow.

"Are you alright?" he asked as the door closed, sealing us in privacy.

The question startled me—his concern directed outward despite his own precarious position.Anotherpiece of evidence that my father's assessment of him was fatally flawed.

"They didn't hurt you,"Isaid instead of answering, my eyes scanning him for signs of trauma or interference.

"No.Yourman—Carlo—he kept them away."Luca'shands twisted together in his lap, betraying the calm he projected. "Whathappened with your father?"

"Exactly what we expected."Ireached across the space between us, covering his restless hands with one of mine.Thecontact steadied something in me even asIfelt him tense momentarily before relaxing into the touch. "He'sthreatened, but contained for now."

"And theSouzas?"

"Will be looking for revenge,"Iadmitted, refusing to shield him from the consequences of our alliance. "Butthey'll move carefully.Apublic claim has legal weight they can't easily overcome."

The car pulled away from the estate, carrying us back toward the penthouseI'dalready mentally recategorized asoursrather thanmine.Securityprotocols had been tripled, access restricted to a handful of my most trusted men.Afortress guarding what belonged to me—whatI'dclaimed before enemies and family alike.

"What do we do now?"Lucaasked, his voice small in the darkness of the car.

I could hear the larger question beneath the surface—what happens to us, to this arrangement born of necessity rather than choice?Theclaiming that existed on paper but not yet in blood and bond?

"Now we go home,"Isaid, the words simple but heavy with implication. "Iset security lockdown.Webegin tracing the missing funds tomorrow."

Luca nodded, accepting the practical answer even as his scent betrayed lingering uncertainty.Thehoney-citrus cloud surrounding him had notesIwas beginning to recognize—bitter oranges for fear, burnt sugar for anxiety, the faintest hint of warm vanilla when he briefly relaxed against my touch.

"He thinksI'mweak,"Lucasaid suddenly, his gaze fixed on the city lights blurring past the window. "Yourfather.Iheard him through the door."

The confession shouldn't have surprised me.OfcourseLucawould have lingered, gathered information—the accountant using every resource to understand his position.Myestimation of him rose further.

"My father measures strength only in violence,"Ireplied. "He'sincapable of recognizing other forms of power."

Luca turned to me then, eyes reflecting the passing streetlights. "Andyou?Whatkind of strength do you value?"

The question penetrated deeper than expected, forcing me to examine assumptionsIrarely questioned.WhatdidIvalue?Theability to command through fear, as my father did?Thestrategic brilliance of my consigliere?Theunwavering loyalty of my captains?

Or something else entirely—the quiet courage of an omega who faced down mafia threats armed with nothing but financial records and unshakable integrity?

"Survival,"Ianswered finally. "Thestrength to endure when others would break.Toadapt when circumstances change.Tofight when necessary and wait when prudent."

Something shifted inLuca'sexpression, a subtle recalibration. "ThenperhapsI'mnot as weak as he believes."

"No,"Iagreed, allowing my thumb to trace a small circle on the back of his hand. "You'renot."

The car turned onto the private access road leading to my penthouse building, security checks visible at regular intervals.Thesight should have relaxed me, evidence of protection successfully deployed, but insteadIfound myself scanning for vulnerabilities, for places an enemy might breach our defenses.Inmy world, security was never absolute—merely layers of deterrence against inevitable intrusion.

Luca sensed the change in my focus, his own gaze following mine to the security measures surrounding us. "They'llcome for us, won't they?Yourfather, theSouzas, whoever took the money..."

"Yes,"Ianswered honestly, seeing no point in shielding him from reality. "Butthey'll findIdefend those under my protection with everythingIpossess."

The possessive declaration hung between us as the car stopped at the private underground entrance.Carloopened my door, his hand instinctively resting on his concealed weapon as he scanned the garage for threats.Iemerged first, creating a physical barrier between potential danger andLucaas he followed.

The elevator ride to the penthouse passed in silence, the weight of the evening's events pressing down on both of us.Onlywhen we were inside, doors locked and security systems engaged, didLuca'sshoulders finally lower from their defensive posture.

"You should rest,"Isaid, watching as he moved uncertainly through what was now his space as much as mine.

"I've been sleeping all day," he reminded me.

"And you'll need more.Tomorrowwon't be easy."

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