Page 154 of Let It Snow
I notice the shift in Luca’s aura instantly. His massive presence expands, flooding with bright blues, sapphires, orange sparks, and red currents rising. He’s theircaporegime, so of course he has a kind of command over them. Their auras dim the moment they see him, like flames flickering lower in the wind. Luca strides toward them with firm, decisive steps.
They’re tall alphas, the type that look like a hybrid of mafia soldiers and FBI agents, dressed in suits and wearing dark sunglasses.
Luca speaks to them in Italian, lays a hand on one man’s shoulder, and leans in. The man’s expression twists strangely, his aura shifting into pale green with dark blotches spreading through it. Then Luca turns to the other two, places his hands on their shoulders, and speaks again in Italian. Narrowing my eyes, I can see thin streams of copper-colored energy sparking faintly as they flow from Luca’s head into theirs. Their energy flickers, disrupted, thrown off balance. Interesting. It occurs to me that Luca could do this to his entire family, to anyone he wanted. Did he always use it with clean intentions? Sun once called him morally gray, neutral. Most purple alphas, with their natural bent toward violence, barely fit into the category of ‘good’ to begin with. I even have a brother like that—Storm—whose favorite pastime was fucking our brothers’ exes.
So how much does Luca’s grayness matter? Could he ever truly be one hundred percent on our side, considering Rocco is his full-blood brother?
Meanwhile, Luca finishes what he’s doing. The three soldiers stare at him blankly, dazed, as the purple alpha turns back to me. "Path’s clear."
"Interesting skill," I murmur.
"Indeed," Luca replies shortly, pushing the door open. He glances back at me. "You’d better focus on your part now. I hope you have a plan, because Rocco will be armed. He’s second only to Ennio in speed and marksmanship we have."
"But it’s hard to killlight, isn’t it?" I mutter under my breath.
Luca shoots me a sideways look. Something flickers in his aura. He hesitates before saying,
"Don’t let arrogance get you killed, Snow. Remember, Sun mentioned your abilities to Anzo, which means Rocco may know something about them too." His tone cuts sharp, his strong, square-jawed face turning toward me.
For a long moment we just stare at each other.
Then we move down a long corridor with no doors, only a turn at the end.
"Beyond that corner you’ll find three doors. They’re in one of those rooms, probably the last one, it’s the biggest," Luca says in a low voice.
He pauses, then adds,
"Good luck. You may need it. Moon and I will be waiting in the car."
With surprising speed for his size, he pivots and walks out, closing the door behind him.
I draw in a deep breath, relieved he’s gone.
I’ve never been in a situation like this before. Living quietly in a basement, hiding from the world, does nothing to prepare you for a head-on clash with the mafia, that much is certain.
As I approach the doors, I shrug off my jacket just in case, and that’s when something catches my attention. In the crook of my arm, there’s a faint smear of blood. I bring it closer to my eyes.
Is that… a tiny puncture mark in my skin?
An unsettling thought flashes through my mind. I doubt it was Rocco and his people. Why bother injecting me with something and… then what? Wait for me to wake up and go to them? Why not just kill me.
But Moon mentioned that Luca tried a few things on me. Was it all just to wake me up, or could it be something to tilt the odds a little in his brother’s favor? And for sure, would Luca even know—or care—if the effect was, for example, debilitating? He’s mafia, for fuck’s sake.Not caringis basically part of the job description.
Let’s not forget, he stood by and watched Summer get beaten and electrocuted by Anzo and didnothing. And Moon? His True Mate isn’t exactly an angel either. He spent years strung out, wandering the streets for a fix, the kind of addict who let his own brothers suffer in a fortress while their parents worried themselves sick under the weight of it. There are no words for that.
Can I really trust either of them?
But the more important question is…
Do I even have another choice?
As I stare at the tiny puncture, troubling thoughts race through me. Am I really a hundred percentreadyfor this?
And then I hear Summer’s voice, loud and piercing.
"No!!!"
And I know I don’t have any more time.
