SIX
LUCA
“They’re inside Flesh,” Nicholas says, voice calm but laced with an edge I recognize. He’s as tense as I am.
“I’m ten minutes out. Don’t let them leave.” Rage chokes me, thick and searing. They took her. Sophia. My Sophia. They’re going to learn pain like nothing the world has ever witnessed.
Nicholas continues talking, but I’ve gone deaf with fury. I tune back in just in time. “You want to storm Briarwood’s flagship brothel? That’s basically declaring war.”
“He fired the first shot. He stole the suitcase from my vault.”
“There’s still no concrete proof he gave the order. It’s all speculation, just like your parents.”
“Who the hell else would target that file? We’ve got a billion-dollar deal going down in a week, and someone just happens to crack our most secure vault, ignore all the valuables, and grab the blackmail dossier on the appropriations committee? Put it in a suitcase, no less? Come on.”
“I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m saying if we don’t prove it, we drown this city in blood for nothing—and that deal evaporates into thin air.”
“They already told me they were selling it to Briarwood. That bastard ordered the job. Who’s guarding the front?”
“Peter. Looks bored out of his mind. Gained weight. You want me to take him down?”
“No. Just monitor the entrance. I’ll handle this myself.”
I end the call, fury driving me faster. Even if taking the file hadn't already doomed them, kidnapping her sealed their fates.
Sophia’s safety has consumed every part of me. She's all I can think about. I warned them what I’d do if they laid a hand on her. Promised agony. And they still thought they could test me?
What were they thinking? As far as they know, she’s a nobody.
But I know the truth. She’s everything.
I weave through traffic, thoughts of her in that place with them gnawing at my insides. I’ve never cared before. I’ve never looked back at who gets hurt.
But her?
She's different.
Maybe it’s her light. The untainted hope in her eyes that makes me believe something in this filthy world might still be worth saving.
That’s not what I’m thinking now though. Now I’m thinking about their screams.
My reputation is more than fear—it’s prophecy. I’m not just Don Morretti tonight. I’m death walking. Anyone who’s hurt her will beg for it to end.
Briarwood thinks his brothel is sacred ground, untouchable. That’s why they brought her there. They think the name protects them. Maybe they even believe they can cut a deal. That they’ve got leverage.
I don’t have a softer side.
My phone rings again. One of those scumbags.
“We got your attention yet?” His voice is smug. “We’ve got your girl. Bet that stings, huh? How about you let us go and we hand her back. You’re a businessman. Think of it like a trade.”
I pull up outside Flesh. Nicholas slips into the passenger seat of my car, binoculars scanning the front. Peter’s pacing, unaware of what’s coming. The street’s quiet. No clients this early. At night, this place is hell’s waiting room. Now, it’s still.
The guy on the phone keeps blabbering. “So here’s the deal. You bring the Bentley to the curb in thirty minutes. We walk out with the girl, get in, and drive to the airport. No games, no blood.”
“First class!” his buddy shouts in the background.
They’re not making it to boarding.
They’re not making it out at all.
People say I’m a myth, that no man can be that ruthless. By the time they realize I’m real, it’s too late.
“Sure,” I say coolly. “Whatever you want. Let me speak to her.”
“Who is she to you anyway?” he asks as I climb out of the car. “Why does she matter so much?”
I can’t let them hear the desperation in me. Can’t let them know how far I’ve fallen for her.
“Touch her and die,” I growl, voice sharp with restrained fury.
“Told you,” he says, laughing to his friend. “She does mean something to him. Maybe he’s her sugar daddy.”
“Then squeeze some cash out of him,” the other jeers. “Big money.”
“A million,” the first one says. “In the Bentley. Thirty minutes. Or I slit her throat.”
I put the right amount of fear in my voice. “You’ll get your money. But I need time. I don’t carry that kind of cash.”
“You’ve got thirty minutes. Tick tock.”
He hangs up. I turn to Nicholas. “When they come out, stop them. Alive. No blood yet. Understand?”
He nods. I stride toward Flesh.
Peter straightens the second he spots me. “Don Morretti,” he says, head dipping respectfully. He’s tall, but he’s trembling. He knows my legend.
“I’m going in.”
“I gotta call the boss. He’ll kill me otherwise.”
“Then you were on a smoke break. I took your key.” I pause. “You need a piss?”
He smiles nervously. “Actually, I do.” He lobs the key at me and walks off.
I enter.
The place reeks of beer, sweat, and despair. It used to be an arcade—old machines still line the walls, broken and dark. Near the entrance, an office holds neatly stacked bills.
The main space is partitioned into makeshift rooms. Cells, really. Each one locked.
Through the grimy glass, I see girls lying on torn mattresses, chained at the ankle. Some are sleeping. Some awake and watching me warily. To them, I’m just another monster. Their eyes are hollow, stripped of hope. I move past them, checking one cell after another. At least a dozen women. Prisoners.
This… this is what drove the final wedge between my father and Briarwood. He said there was gold in flesh. My father refused. No women. No children. No exceptions.
Briarwood tried to change his mind. He failed.
Looking into those cells, I know Dad was right. He may have been a drunk, but he had lines he wouldn’t cross.
At the far end of the hall, I push into a foul-smelling lounge.
And then I stop.
There she is.
Sophia.
Even in this place, she radiates beauty. Fragile and fierce. Behind her, the two men lurk like predators. The stocky one’s got a gun to her temple. The tall one speaks.
“You bring the money?”
“Outside,” I reply. “Bentley’s parked and the flight’s booked. Two hours to make it. Let her go and leave.”
He grins at the other man. “Told you he’d cave. We’re home free.”
They hurry past me, like fools who think they’ve just won.
Their deaths are inevitable—I’m just delaying the execution until she’s safe.
I turn back to Sophia. Her eyes are wide, fear and relief battling for dominance.
“Did they hurt you?” I ask, reaching out to help her up.
Our hands meet, and a shock goes through me. A fire catching in my chest, threatening to consume everything.
She feels it too—her pupils widen, her breath quickens. “Those women,” she murmurs, glancing over my shoulder at the cells. “I didn’t realize it was this horrific.”
“Not all of them are like this,” I reply, leading her forward. “But Briarwood? He locks them up, drugs them to keep them obedient. We need to go.”
“My sister… Tess. She almost got pulled into something like this.” She shudders as I guide her along. “Where are we going now?”
“Back to my place,” I tell her.
“What about Tess? The last thing she saw was me being dragged away. Is she okay?”
It hits me—her first thought is for her sister. Even after everything, she’s worried about someone else. “My men are watching your place. If anything happens, they'll stop it before it starts. You have my word—she's safe.”
I lead her past the final door, out into daylight. She winces at the brightness, then freezes at the sight before her—her captors, bound and bloodied.
Nicholas stands beside them, gun loose in hand. Peter, meanwhile, stares at the sky like it’s got answers to questions he’s too dumb to ask.
“Anything useful?” I ask Nicholas.
He nods and nudges the skinny one with his boot. “This one wouldn't shut up. Says Briarwood pulled the suitcase from the trash himself. They don’t know where he hid it, but he’s planning to use it to hijack your billion-dollar deal. Still hasn’t figured out the password, though.”
“Of course. Blackmail the committee, make them sell to him instead. Leaves us with nothing.” I exhale sharply. “Think he can break the encryption?”
“I’ve got three ex-CIA analysts working on it and even they’re stumped. Briarwood cracking it? He’s more likely to sing karaoke in drag.” The guy groans. Nicholas gives him another swift kick. “Permission to finish them? Their crying’s starting to bug me.”
“And deprive me of the satisfaction?” I kneel by the first man, gripping his jaw. “You terrified her,” I growl, digging my finger into his cheek. He howls through the gag as I rip it open, a crimson line splitting his face.
I rise and turn to the other. The bulldog’s trembling now as I pull out my blade. I wave it in front of his eye. “You know, I’m precise. I could peel your eyelids off without touching the rest of you. That way you get a front-row seat while I turn your buddy into dog food.” I lean in. “Maybe I’ll make you eat him.”
“Stop,” Sophia’s voice calls softly behind me. “Stop hurting him.”
I straighten and turn toward her. “They took you. You think I should send them a gift basket?”
Her eyes narrow. “No one deserves to be tortured. Not even them.”
She’s trembling, but she’s standing her ground. Surrounded by blood and fear, and yet she still holds onto that core of light inside her. “They abducted you, lied to your father, tried to ruin us. Why do you care?”
“Torturing them makes you just like them,” she says gently. “Please. For me. End it, but don’t become worse than they are.”
I stare at her for a moment. Then I pull my gun and put a bullet through each of their skulls. “Better?”
I move toward the car.
“You can’t leave the women in there,” she says, pointing back toward the brothel. “Please. They need help.”
Nicholas lifts an eyebrow, knowing what I’m thinking. This is Briarwood’s turf. We usually don’t interfere, even if we hate how he operates.
I walk back to Peter. “You got the keys to the cells?”
He shrugs. “Nope.”
I press my gun under his chin. “You sure about that?”
“Oh, you mean these?” he says, fishing them from his jacket.
I pull a wad of bills from my wallet and slap it into his hand. “Heard South America’s nice this time of year.”
“Perfect for working on my tan,” he says, grinning, before making himself scarce.
I head back in, the stench thick as I open door after door. The women stumble out, dazed and mumbling thanks in Russian. My stomach turns.
In the front office, I spot the stacked bills. Without thinking, I scoop up the money and hand it to Nicholas outside. “Split it between them,” I say flatly.
Then I return to Sophia and gently guide her toward my car. Nicholas eyes me carefully.
“You happy now?” I ask her.
“You did the right thing,” she says softly. “That should make you happy.”
Nicholas taps my shoulder. “We need to talk.”
“To the car,” I whisper to Sophia. Then I face him. “What?”
He lowers his voice. “Briarwood will know it was you. He still has the case. If he cracks that code, he’ll take the deal—and he’ll come after you next. That’s a billion-dollar war chest. He could buy the city.”
“Is the church ready?”
“And if your name isn’t enough to protect her?”
“Honeymoon. Out of the country. She’s off the radar until after the deal goes through.”
I walk to the car where Sophia’s waiting. Her gaze rises to meet mine. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
I slide in beside her, expression unreadable. “Because,” I say calmly, “you'll be my wife”