Page 151 of The Hitman's Secret Baby
"You took your time," I rasp, my voice more gravel than sound.
Luca pulls the chair up beside the bed and sits, adjusting his cufflink with idle precision. "You were out for seven days. Doctor said if you didn't wake by today, we should prepare for the worst." He pauses. "I told him he didn't know you."
I manage a smirk, though it tears at the wound beneath my ribs. "Sounds like something you'd say."
"I never doubt my own." He says it quietly. "I only worry when they forget they are not immortal."
We sit like that for a while, silence thick between us, but not unwelcome.
Luca watches me like a man evaluating a house after a fire.
Checking for which walls still stand. Which doors will still open.
"What happened after?" I ask, though the words cost me another, sharper burst of pain.
He leans back.
"Cesare Gotti is dead. The rest of his network is unraveling faster than we expected. The Corsican authorities are calling it a local dispute, but we know better. We seized half his assets before his own men started turning on each other. Apparently, they didn't like being led by a ghost."
I nod slowly, the reality of it settling in.
"You did well," Luca says, and the praise sounds strange coming from him.
Not because it is false, but because it is rare.
"I took a hit."
"You came back breathing. That is more than I asked." He looks at me for a long time. "You gave everything to this family. You carried out orders no one else could have. You protected what I built even when it broke you."
I want to tell him that it did break me, more than once.
That I bled for it in ways no stitches can hold. But I remain silent. Because I also loved it.
The power.
The purpose.
The clarity of being the sharpest blade in the hand of a king.
Luca rises then. "It's time."
"For what?"
"For you to choose." He adjusts his jacket, brushing a faint crease from his lapel. "You have done what I asked. There are no debts between us. No blood unpaid. You want out. You want peace. You can have it."
The words settle on my chest like a second heartbeat.
I stare at him, unsure if I have heard correctly.
Luca Salvatore does not give freedom.
He buries men who ask for it.
And yet here he is, offering it like a gift wrapped in steel.
"Why now?" I ask, my voice barely audible.
"Because you've earned it. And because I need you alive more than I need you loyal."
