Chapter 4 - The Reunion in the Dark
"Luca," Clara breathed out, her voice breaking as tears finally spilled over her eyelashes. The restraints binding her wrists fell away as Marcus cut through the heavy zip-ties with a tactical knife. "You shouldn't have come. They were waiting for you..."
"I told you thirteen years ago that I would let you go to keep you safe," Luca said, his voice rough and thick with emotion he hadn't allowed himself to feel in over a decade. He gently cupped her face with his calloused hand, wiping away a streak of dirt from her cheek. "I failed. But I will never, ever let anyone take you from me again."
He turned his gaze to the boy sitting beside her.
Marco stared back at him. Up close, the resemblance was undeniable. The sharp jawline, the intense, unwavering gaze, the stubborn set of his shoulders—it was like looking into a mirror reflecting a younger, unscarred version of himself.
"You're Luca," Marco said, his voice steady despite the trembling of his hands. "My mom... she told me stories about you. She said you were dangerous."
Luca let out a choked, wet laugh, pulling his son into an embrace so fierce and desperate it seemed as though he was trying to fuse the boy’s soul into his own. "She was right, Marco. I am dangerous. But I will spend every breath I have left ensuring that danger never touches you again."
Clara wrapped her arms around both of them, burying her face against Luca’s shoulder as the heavy weight of thirteen years of separation, fear, and sacrifice finally melted away. The cold, sterile fortress that Luca had built around his heart crumbled completely, replaced by a fierce, blazing warmth that he had never thought he was worthy of experiencing.
Marcus stepped up quietly behind them, gesturing toward the whimpering Salvatore Moretti. "Boss, what do we do with him?"
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Luca stood up slowly, gently lifting Marco to his feet and keeping his arm securely around his son’s shoulders. He looked down at Salvatore with eyes devoid of human pity—cold, absolute judgment incarnate.
"Send him to the bottom of Lake Michigan with concrete shoes," Luca ordered coldly. "And make sure every syndicate from New York to Los Angeles knows what happens when someone touches a Rinaldi."
