But I know what and who’s waiting for me downstairs, and I’ve put this off long enough.
With one last glance at Sofia, I rise from the chair and cross the room. The guards outside straighten the moment I step into the hallway, their eyes flicking to me for orders.
"Stay on this door," I say quietly. "No one gets in. No one gets close."
They nod. They know better than to question me.
I make my way through the corridors, my steps measured and sharp, my pulse steady despite the storm I know I’m walking into. The estate exhales into stillness, the late hour drawing most of the men into shadowed corners—some slipping into restless sleep, others tending to wounds that whisper of the fight. But something lingers, drifting through the halls like the last notes of a song, sinking into the floorboards like moonlight that never quite fades.
I find Luca in his study, exactly where I knew he’d be.
The room glows with a quiet, amber warmth, the desk lamp casting soft halos of light that melt into the night beyond the towering windows. The city shimmers in the distance, its glow bleeding faintly through the glass, distant and unreachable. Shadows drift along the shelves where Luca stands, fingers resting against the wood as if steadying himself against something unseen. The whiskey glass waits, untouched, besidea half-empty bottle that seems to hold the weight of unspoken thoughts.
He heard me coming. He’s waiting.
"Did you even think, Marco?" His voice is hushed, steady, each word stretched taut over the edge of restraint, trembling with the fury he refuses to unleash. "Or did you just act on instinct, like a reckless idiot?"
I step inside, letting the door shut behind me. "I thought," I say evenly. "And I made a choice."
Luca turns then, his expression carved from stone, cold and impassive, but his eyes burn.
"A choice that could have cost us everything," he snaps. "You risked the entire family for one woman."
"She’s not just one woman."
Lucatsksbitterly, shaking his head. "That’s the problem, Marco. You let your emotions cloud your judgment. You let them use her against you, and you walked right into their fucking trap."
I ease forward, each step sinking into the quiet like a needle through cloth. My voice carries no weight, just the sharp edge of suppressed rage. "And if I hadn’t? If I’d done what you wanted and left her there?" My head angles, a fraction of movement that cuts deeper than it should. "Would you have been able to live with that?"
A muscle jumps in his jaw.
I, however, am not finished.
"We call ourselves a family," I continue, with a hint of acid in my tone. "We say we protect our own. But when it came down to it, you were willing to leave her behind. If that’s the kind of family we are, maybe we need to rethink what the hell we actually stand for."
His eyes flash, but before he can respond, the door swings open.
Valentina walks inside.
She moves into the room with the same fire she always carries, her heels clicking sharply against the floor, her dark eyes locked on Luca with a force that could cut through stone.
"You can’t be serious, Luca," she says, her voice tight with disbelief. "You’re really standing here, arguing that Marco should’ve let Sofia die?"
Luca groans and runs a hand through his hair. "It’s not that simple, Valentina. I had men on it, I simply didn’t want him getting involved. The family must be kept safe at all costs."
"Like hell it isn’t simple," she retorts. "Sofia is my best friend—sheisfamily. And we don’t abandon family."
Luca turns away, shaking his head. "This isn’t about Sofia. It’s about what Marco’s actions mean for all of us. The Lombardis played him, and now they know exactly how to get to him, and therefore to us."
Valentina crosses her arms. "They knew that already."
Silence stretches between them.
She steps closer and turns him so his eyes level with hers. "You know what’s right, Luca," she says. "We protect our own. That’s what this family is about."
Luca stares at her for a long moment. He knows she’s right.
He just doesn’t want to admit it.
