Slowly, I nod. None of us are entirely sure what Matteo is tracking, what he’s watching, but our main phones are a safe bet. Gio and I have burners, but Luc wouldn’t have the number. “I’ll give you the details.”
“I’m between phones at the moment.”
When I furrow my eyebrows in silent question, he shrugs. “I lent mine to Stefano. I assume he needed it.”
My inhale is abrupt realization.
I haven’t spoken to Gio for a few days, both of us wrapped up in our own side of the preparations. “He used it to send blueprints to Gio. Amongst other things.”
Luc blinks, the only sign of his surprise. And then his eyes sharpen. “So—,”
“Tell me why you’re here, Luciano.” My voice is hard, even as I slip my hand back into my pocket and grip that photograph like a good luck charm. “Now.”
No more games. No more hiding behind taunting smirks.
Every bit of that nonchalance disappears from his expression. “I’m getting Alessia out of there on Saturday, Dante.”
A ringing sound erupts in my ears. Luc watches me in silence, his jaw tight.
Three months, and the pieces are aligning. “Saturday, then.”
Six days until we go to war to get them back.
He inhales, as I pull the photo from my pocket. Luciano Morelli’s fingers tremble as he takes it, shadows unfurling in his gaze. “She’s grown.”
He catches my expression. “The night they took them, Alessia was rightthere. Cat and I waited until we were sure to move. The knife – Matteo had it underneath her blanket.”
A knife, that close to my daughter. The knife that nearly ended his life, according to Gio. And the emotion in my chest feels very close to what I see on his face.
I hated him for it. For taking Cat there. “Why did you do it, Luc?”
He knows what I’m asking. His fingers tighten on the photo. “I made Cat a promise once. I told her that I would always stand beside her, that I’d never try to hold her back by blocking her way.”
I would never have let her go, would have fought her every step of the way, and she knew it. And Gio – he would have been the same. Dom was in no shape to go anywhere.
Luc meets my eyes. “And she promised me that she would always tell me where she was going in exchange. I don’t break my promises, V’Arezzo.”
She would have gone there alone, if it wasn’t for him.
He looks down at the photo.
“I came here,” he says quietly, “so you would know to be ready, to go for Cat. We have to hit them both at the same time, Dante. And because if I don’t come out, there are things you need to know.”
To try again, if he fails.
“Somehow,” I say, and my throat is tight, so fuckingtight, “I cannot imagine that happening, Morelli.”
I’m beginning to understand that Luciano Morelli would crawl over broken glass for them. Forbothof them. And I don’t have the words to express to him what that means.
Family, indeed.
When he stands an hour later, that smirk slips back into place like a mask. His hazel eyes glitter. “I plan to hit the Bellagio next. Just so you know.”
All part of the act, in case anyone is paying attention.
I hold out my hand, and he takes it, his grip strong. “You know I’m going to tell them you’re coming.”
Luc snorts. “You vastly underestimate my abilities if you think that will stop me, V’Arezzo.”
