Names carry power in this world. Bloodlines even more so. The moment Luca stopped being anonymous and went from being just Elena’s son and becamemine, he turned into a target my enemies could justify hunting freely.
I look back toward the bedroom door just as it slowly parts from the jamb.
Elena stands there, half-hidden by the frame, blinking sleep from her eyes as they find mine. For a second she looks disoriented, caught between worlds before awareness sharpens her gaze. She pulls the door open the rest of the way.
She’s wearing the same nightgown she always wears to bed, one I rarely see because of the distance I’ve forced between us when things became complicated. Her hair is a mess, dark waves falling over her shoulders while sleep clings to her lashes. Even like this, she looks devastatingly beautiful.
It makes what I’m about to say feel even worse.
“What happened?” she asks.
My hand tightens around the phone.
For a brief moment, I consider lying.
The instinct is immediate, nearly reflexive. I could tell her it’s business, nothing she needs to worry about. I could carry this alone the way I always do, keeping the danger contained instead of putting it on her shoulders where it doesn’t belong.
But this isn’t like before. This time, it isn’t about shutting her out because I want to punish her. It’s about protecting her from the fear that will haunt her the second I open my mouth. From the truth that our son’s life is in danger.
Still… she deserves to know.
Especially when it concerns Luca.
The thought of another night like the Bellanti attack turns my stomach. I would never forgive myself for keeping her in the dark if something happened again. My tongue swipes against the back of my teeth as I choose my words carefully.
“There has…” I start, then stop, trying again. “There has been some concerning intel that’s come in.”
Her hand tightens visibly around the door handle.
“About?” she asks.
God, I hate this.
“About Luca.”
Her eyes widen instantly, panic flashing bright and unrestrained.
Then she’s moving.
Before I can stop her, she darts past me, bare feet slapping softly against the floor as she runs down the hallway towardhis bedroom, maternal terror overriding any sense of reason to allow me to finish.
“Shit,” I mutter, already following.
I catch up to her just before she can reach the door, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back before she can swing it open and wake him. “Elena, wait.”
“Let go of me,” she hisses.
She elbows backward, aiming for my chest. It nearly connects with my sternum, only missing because I twist away at the last second, redirecting her momentum. She struggles against me, frantic while trying to break free. I use the awkward angle to my advantage, turning her and pinning her gently but firmly back against the wall.
I don’t hurt her.
I never could.
But I don’t let go of her, either.
“He’s okay,” I say quickly. “He’s safe.”
She’s breathing hard now, her eyes glassy and wild as they search my face.
