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LUCA

My heart hammers as the ring of the phone echoes in my ear.

“ This is Anders. Leave a message if you want, but let’s be real, who listens to their voicemail anymore? ” The beep sounds and I end the call, growling out a curse.

I’m in a full-out sprint as I round the corner towards my building, redialing Anders for the umpteenth time since I saw his text.

Ring.

I jog up the steps towards the main building door.

Ring.

I wedge my phone between my ear and shoulder and fumble for my keys with shaking hands.

Ring .

I ram the key blindly around the edges of the keyhole, grumbling every time I miss it.

I’ve faced down the barrel of countless guns myself, watched the life drain out of the eyes of men, seen my own life flash before my eyes, but I’ve never been scared like I am right now not knowing what’s happening to Anders right now outside of his vague text message about “shit going down.”

Ri —

I hold my breath as the ringing abruptly cuts off, finally managing to get my key into the lock so I can fling the door open.

“Anders’s phone, who may I say is calling?” a snarky voice answers, followed by a grunt.

“Sparrow,” I growl with a mixture of relief and frustration. If he’s with Anders, that’s probably good news, but why isn’t my little viper answering his own phone? “Where’s Anders?”

I take the stairs two at a time up to my floor.

“His brother looked like he was going to hurl, so Anders is with him in the bathroom while I deal with the… aftermath.” He grunts again.

I end the call without formalities and shove my phone back into my pocket.

My apartment door is ajar when I reach the landing.

I hurry through it and swing it closed behind me.

The metallic smell of blood and the distinct odor of gunpowder hit me immediately.

A thump and grunt from the living room have me hurrying down the hallway, prepared to deal with whatever aftermath Sparrow alluded to.

I round the corner to find my living room furniture all pushed back, a spray of crimson painting one wall, with a distinct bullet hole right in the middle, leaving no room to wonder what the hell happened. Sparrow is bent over my rolled-up area rug, a dark stain soaking through on one end.

“I hope you weren’t too attached to this rug.

It wasn’t exactly salvageable,” he says without turning around.

He gets his hands under one side of the lumpy shape that I’m assuming is Anders’s father, rolling it over with another thump and a final grunt before straightening up and swiping the back of his arm over his forehead.

“I always thought Xav was being kind of a priss about cleanup, but he’s right, it’s a huge pain in the ass. ”

He turns around to face me, his t-shirt smeared with streaks of blood.

“I don’t give a fuck about the rug.” I finally catch up to answering his question. “And thanks. Do you know what happened?” I glance in the direction of the half bathroom just beyond the living room, itching to go find Anders.

Sparrow shrugs. “Anders took care of the bastard before I got here. I figured I’d do my good deed for the year and deal with this so he could regroup and take care of his brother.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it. I’m sure Anders does too.” It feels like such an oddly formal thing to say about someone cleaning up a dead body for you, but Sparrow just nods and waves off the thanks.

“Go check on your man. Xav should be here any minute to haul this fucker down the stairs and drive him up to the ravine.” He kicks the lumpy carpet for good measure.

I nod in thanks one more time and leave him to finish up. I hesitate outside of the bathroom just long enough to knock.

“Come in.” Anders’s voice is muffled by the door, but the sound of it makes my body tingle like it always does. He sounds calm, even, under control, but it’s possible he hasn’t fully processed the fact that he shot his own father.

I push the door open slowly and peek my head inside.

There’s a larger man sitting on the floor near the toilet, his back against the wall, a faraway, haunted look in his eyes, which happen to be the same shade of ice blue as Anders’s.

I give him my best sympathetic smile, but I’m not sure he even really sees it through his state of shock.

Anders is standing, leaning against the adjacent wall, his hands in his pockets, his hair falling over his forehead, and his eyebrows scrunched with worry as he looks at his brother.

I close the space between us and pull him into my arms, crushing his body to mine.

The warmth of his skin and the familiar weight of him against me instantly steadies the anxious quiver inside of me.

He’s tense for a moment, but then he relaxes into me, curling his fingers around my tie and burying his face against my throat.

I press my nose into his hair and breathe him in, closing my eyes and just feeling the steady beat of his heart and the measured in and out of his breaths for a few seconds.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” I murmur. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” He repeats the reassurance a few times, stroking his fingers up and down the back of my neck, every exhale warm and fluttering against my throat.

His voice is strong but just a little hollow.

If I had to guess, he’s more worried about Finn than processing his own feelings about what just happened right now.

I kiss the top of his head a few times, squeezing him tighter before letting him go, taking his face in my hands, and looking into his eyes.

“You’re the strongest, bravest, most incredible man I’ve ever known, do you know that?” There are more words on my tongue that I’m dying to say to him, but it’s probably not the time with his brother having a breakdown on the floor a foot away and his father’s dead body in the next room.

A small smile appears and he nods, tilting his face up and brushing a quick kiss over my lips.

“This isn’t exactly the introduction I was hoping for,” Anders says, looking past me towards his brother. “But what the hell, we’re all here so why the fuck not. Finn, this is my boyfriend, Luca. Luca, Finn.”

His brother blinks like he’s working his way out of a heavy sleep, and looks around the bathroom for a second before his eyes land on me, focused for the first time.

“Luca Moretti,” Finn says.

I grimace and run a hand over the back of my head.

I’m not sure there’s ever a good way to tell your boyfriend’s family that you’re in the Mafia, but this really doesn’t feel like a good first impression.

Does he think I turned his brother into a bloodthirsty killer?

Does he think I’m no better than their father, grooming Anders just to pimp him out or abuse him later?

My jaw ticks and a thousand defenses and reassurances jump to my lips, but before I can start in on any of them, Finn clambers to his feet and throws his arms around me in a hug.

“Thank you for everything you did for him. You saved him.”

“I—” I glance over at Anders, not sure what to say.

A genuine smile turns up the corners of his lips this time, the spark returning to his eyes.

I swallow around a lump in my throat, my heart beating furiously with the need to drag Anders away so I can spend the rest of the afternoon kissing him and making sure he’s okay.

“I saved myself, Finny,” Anders says wryly, shooting me a cheeky wink that tells me better than any words could that he really is going to be alright, and this hasn’t scarred him for life. “Luca just reminded me that I’m a predator, not prey.”

ANDERS

Sparrow knocks on the bathroom door and pokes his head in to give us the all clear. He gives me a significant look that I know means I’m proud of you and call me if you need to talk , then blows me a kiss and takes off.

Finn is still in a daze, so I don’t push to leave the bathroom right away. Luca comes in and out, adorably concerned about my brother, bringing us mugs of hot cocoa and repeatedly offering Finn the guest bedroom, letting him know he’s welcome to stay here as long as he wants.

The numbness I felt in the middle of everything slowly slips away over the course of the afternoon, leaving me with a jumble of emotions tangled up inside my chest and gut.

But, surprisingly, most of them aren’t so bad.

Relief and a sense of power overshadow any guilt by a mile, which is more than I’d hoped for.

I hold Finn’s hand and stroke his hair. He peppers me with questions about the last few years on and off, and I answer them all as honestly as I can.

With our father gone, all the memories carry less weight, like I’m describing the plot of a movie rather than my own life.

The Anders who suffered it all is at the bottom of the ravine, right next to the man who caused all of it.

It turns out justified murder is an even better form of therapy than rough sex—go figure.

“I should probably call the leasing offices for all the apartments I was supposed to see today and reschedule,” Finn says absently.

I snort a laugh. “Yes, clearly that’s the top priority. Why don’t you give me a list and I’ll take care of it?”

The color is returning to his cheeks and he’s more lively than he was an hour ago. Even his hands feel less clammy.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I can never thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me, Ands, but it’s time I start doing for myself.”

I squeeze his hand and kiss his cheek.

“Okay. As long as you know that I’m always here when you need help. There’s no shame in needing people.”

“I know.” He lets out a breath that manages to convey a sense of closure and determination in a way I had no idea a simple exhale could. He pats my hand and gets back to his feet. “If it really is okay, I will stay for a night or two. Then I have to get back to campus to start taking my finals.”

“Of course it’s okay,” I assure him.

“I’m going to go back to my dorm and pack a bag, and then I’ll be back. How about if I pick up some takeout on my way? It’s been ages since we’ve eaten Thai food and watched mindless action movies, what do you say?”

I ruffle my brother’s hair and grin. “It sounds great. Get enough food for Luca too. Hold on, I can give you some cash for it.”

I start to leave the bathroom, but Finn snags my arm and shakes his head. “I’ve got it, Ands.”

I sigh and chuckle. Fuck, this is going to take some getting used to. But he’s right, I can’t treat him like a little kid forever. He’s a full-blown adult with a grown-up job and a college degree and everything. Hell, he’s adulting harder than I am if I take all that into account.

I walk him to the door and give him my key so he can let himself back in.

Then, I wander back down the hall to find Luca in the living room.

The floor looks bare without the rug in the middle of it, but other than that, there’s no sign whatsoever of what happened here today.

The wall is clean, and there’s even a rough spot with drying paint over the bullet hole.

He sits up as soon as he sees me, scooting to the edge of the couch and glancing behind me for my brother.

“He went to pack a bag so he can stay for a couple of days. He’s going to pick up dinner on his way back,” I fill Luca in as I cross the living room towards him.

I grin and shove him forcefully back onto the couch when I reach him, then climb onto his lap, straddling his thighs.

His cock immediately plumps and so does mine, but neither of us does anything to acknowledge it.

He just wraps his arms around me and lets me fold myself into him so I can rest my head on his shoulder.

“How’s he doing?”

I huff out a humorless laugh. “Better than expected. He’s probably just repressing the trauma, but considering he still has finals to get through and a new job starting in a few weeks, it’s for the best right now.

He can deal with it in therapy once everything settles down again.

Or, you know, by getting really into rough sex and murder for revenge, since that seems to be the most popular way to cope around here. ”

Luca chuckles, his chest vibrating against mine, the relaxed sound filling me with warmth from head to toe and solidifying the strangely normal feeling settling over me. Maybe I’m repressing a bit too, but I’m okay with it.

“You know, they say most therapists go into the field to learn how to heal their own trauma, so at least I’ll fit right in when I start my classes,” I say, realizing as the words leave my mouth that I’ve already made a decision about what I want the next phase of my life to look like.

I sit up so I can look at Luca. He’s smiling, his eyes dancing with pride and light and the same deep, palpable adoration that’s been there since the first night we met. I cup his jaw and drag my thumb over the rough stubble of his cheek.

“You’re going to apply?”

“Yeah, I am. I have to do something to stay busy while my boyfriend is at work all day. I can’t just lay around his apartment all day like a lump,” I joke, and his grin gets even wider.

“Does that mean you’re staying?”

I nod. “I’m staying.”

“Good,” he growls, grabbing the back of my neck and dragging me close so our lips are only a few inches apart. “Because I was never planning to let you go.”

I laugh and bump my nose against his, then nip roughly at his bottom lip, savoring the hiss of his breath that puffs hotly over my mouth.

“I love you.” The words bypass my brain altogether and jump straight to my lips. I shiver as they fill the air between us and Luca drags in a sharp breath, tightening his grip on the back of my neck.

“Are you sure you’re not just in shock?” There’s a hint of teasing in his voice, but the mild tremor of worry is much louder.

“I’m not in shock.” I brush my lips against his again, more and more sure of my feelings with every hot spark that ignites between us and the warm, fullness that swells inside my chest. “In fact, I’m more clearheaded than I’ve been in years.

You saw the real me when I felt like a shell.

You wanted the dark parts of me, the ugly parts of me, the difficult parts of me, like no one else ever has.

You love me, Luca Moretti, and I love you. ”

His lips quiver and he puffs out a trembling exhale that’s not quite a laugh.

“I want to tease you right now, but you’re absolutely right, my little viper, I do love you.

I love your beauty and your venom. I love all your sweet parts, and the salty ones too.

Don’t ever change, just let me bask in the fiery glow. ”

“Yes,” I murmur breathlessly, crushing our lips together again in a fierce kiss this time, pouring all the too-big emotions inside of me into the tangle of our tongues and the clash of our mouths.

Of all the men in this city I could have robbed that night, I’m really fucking glad it was Luca Moretti.