*Luciano's POV*
I've never had a girlfriend. I've never even thought of having one. Not because I couldn't, but because I wasn't interested. Women were loud, demanding, and too easily impressed. None of them ever stirred anything inside me. But Eliot… was different. If being drawn to him meant I was gay, then so be it. Labels never meant anything to me. Power did. Control did. And for once, I felt like I was losing control.
By the time I arrived at the territory, TK was the first to meet me at the entrance. He looked tense.
"Sir," he said, bowing slightly. "Everyone's waiting. It's family dinner night… and you're the only one they're waiting for."
I didn't reply. Just walked past him.
As I entered the grand dining hall, the air was already thick with tension. The long table was filled — my two mothers, all my siblings, and even Don Moretti himself. Plates clattered, glasses filled, but the noise wasn't from celebration.
Adrian was already bickering with Luca.
"You think carrying a gun makes you a man?" Adrian snapped.
"At least I don't hide behind my mother's influence," Luca shot back.
"Oh shut up," Lucy rolled her eyes, sipping her wine. "You both act like kids."
Mira gave Clara a look. "If only your children knew respect like mine."
Clara raised an eyebrow. "Respect? That's rich coming from a woman who raised cowards."
The whole table stiffened.
I took my seat, silent. I didn't come here for drama. I didn't even want to be here.
Dinner went on with tension slicing through every word. After the last dish was cleared, my father stood and subtly nodded at me to walk with him.
We stepped into the garden. He lit a cigar, looking up at the moon.
"I've seen a lot in my time, Luciano," he said, exhaling smoke. "You're powerful… frightening even. But last night, the way you handled me…"
I looked at him, guilt flickering inside me. "I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I apologize."
Don Moretti nodded. "You've changed… I don't know if that's good or bad yet." He paused. "When are you introducing Mimi to the family?"
I clenched my jaw. "Soon."
He nodded again. "Good. The family needs stability. And so do you."
If only he knew… the last person on my mind right now was Mimi. All I could think of was Eliot — and how his eyes widened in fear when he looked at me… and why I wished he'd look at me differently.
I needed to keep him safe. And I needed to figure out what the hell he was doing to me.
After the brief walk with my father, I offered a respectful nod and excused myself. I had other matters—real ones—to handle. Family dinners were one thing, but the streets were boiling with a different kind of danger.
I switched cars, heading to the location Gustavo gave me days ago. A rundown warehouse near the edge of the city. Hidden, quiet… but not forgotten.
I parked a distance away and walked the rest. My steps were soundless, calculated. I entered through the side, my hand brushing against the cold grip of my gun just in case.
He was already there. Gustavo.
He stood in the shadows, cigarette in hand, eyes twitching at every creak the building made.
"You came alone?" he asked.
"Always," I said coldly.
He exhaled and nodded, stepping forward. "I've done some digging. You were right to be suspicious."
"Speak."
"There's someone bigger behind this… behind Mimi, her father, everything. A ghost. Whoever he is, even the Russians fear him. He's pulling strings, sending people like me and others to push you. To test your power… your limits."
My eyes narrowed. "And you still don't know who it is?"
"I tried," Gustavo said. "But he's protected. Layers of guards, fake names, digital covers. He's not just powerful, Luciano. He's untouchable. For now."
I stepped closer, invading his space. "You don't bring me half-information again. I don't deal with shadows. I destroy them."
He swallowed. "Understood."
"One more thing," I warned. "Disappear for a while. Go underground. If I see your name involved in anything messy, I'll come for you myself."
"I will. Thank you… for not killing me."
I didn't reply. I turned and left.
***
It was late, nearly nightfall. My car idled across the street from the flower shop. The lights were off, and through the glass window, I saw him—Eliot—tidying up, humming something softly to himself.
A few minutes later, he stepped out. Alone. No coat, his backpack slung lazily over one shoulder. He looked too soft for this city. Too breakable.
I watched in silence as he locked the shop, waved faintly at the building, and began walking down the dim street.
Without thinking, I followed—slowly, driving behind him at a distance. The city lights flickered over him, and his silhouette was the only thing anchoring me in that moment.
He was walking into a world that would devour him.
And I was driving behind… the wolf silently guarding the lamb.
I couldn't let anything happen to him.
I didn't expect the day to end like this. Watching Eliot walk ahead of me like that—slow, tired, fragile—it did something to me. My hands were on the steering wheel, but my mind was on him.
Then it happened.
Three men—cowards in the dark—rushed out from nowhere. One yanked him back, another pressed a cloth to his nose.
Chloroform.
I knew that smell.
He struggled. Fought. Until he didn't.
They dragged him into an old mechanic shop just off the road.
My heart went still.
I didn't think. I didn't breathe. I just reached for my gun and stepped out, each move powered by rage that burned cold in my veins.
By the time I entered, I saw Eliot slumped on the ground. His shirt was half unbuttoned, lips dry, body twitching slightly. They had made him drink something. I don't know what it was—but I knew it wasn't meant to be harmless.
Two of them laughed.
I didn't.
*Bang.*
The first one dropped instantly.
The second turned—his mouth still open in shock.
*Bang.*
Blood splashed the wall. He hit the ground.
Only one remained, trembling, a red stain already growing across his shoulder where my first bullet grazed him.
He fell to his knees, arms up. "Please… we weren't gonna kill him. Just—just scare him."
"Who sent you?" I asked, calm and lethal.
He swallowed. "It—it was for payback. He killed our brother. We were sent to get him, teach him a lesson, maybe sell him off."
That was enough.
*Bang. Bang.*
He'll never speak again.
I turned to Eliot.
His skin was pale. His breathing—unsteady. Whatever they forced into him was messing with his system fast. His lips trembled, his lashes fluttered as if he were trapped in a nightmare.
I crossed the space and dropped to my knees beside him.
"Eliot…" I called softly.
No answer.
My hand gently touched his face. Too warm. Too delicate. Like porcelain with a crack.