Chapter 19 - The Lion’s Den
When the ringing in Luna’s ears subsided, she was crawling through a mountain of debris.
The fifth-floor corridor was a warzone. Bullet casings rolled across the blood-slicked tiles like golden marbles. The emergency lights flickered weakly through the thick, acrid haze of burning insulation and tear gas.
She didn't see Luca. She didn't see Enzo.
All she saw were bodies—both Moretti loyalists and Chicago mercenaries.
Luna dragged herself behind an overturned medical supply cart, coughing violently into her sleeve. The revelation of her father's murder still tore through her soul, an agonizing wound far more painful than any physical injury. *He killed my father. The man I loved... the man I protected... is the monster who made me an orphan.*
Footsteps approached. Heavy, deliberate combat boots crunching on broken glass.
"Check the rooms," a harsh, familiar voice ordered through the smoke. "Vance wants the girl alive. The old Don is dead—his heart monitor stopped five minutes ago. Just find the maid!"
Luna pressed her back against the cart, her heart hammering against her ribs. She looked down at the dead guard beside her. In his cold, stiffening grip was a standard Beretta 92FS.
Her hands shook. For weeks, Luca had trained her. *Firm grip. Thumbs forward. Breathe out on the trigger pull.*
She reached out, pried the heavy steel weapon from the dead man's fingers, racked the slide just as Luca had taught her, and held it close to her chest.
Two Chicago gunmen turned the corner into her alcove, their flashlight beams slicing through the fog.
"Hey, look what we got here," one of them sneered, lowering his rifle. "The little trophy."
Luna didn't hesitate. The servant girl who kept her eyes down was gone. The betrayed daughter of the Morelli bloodline took her place.
She raised the Beretta and pulled the trigger twice.
*BANG! BANG!*
The first round caught the man in the throat; the second punched through his chest. He collapsed instantly. The second gunman raised his weapon in shock, but before he could fire, a massive shadow detached itself from the smoke behind him.
A thick arm wrapped around the gunman's neck, snapping it with a sickening, wet crunch.
Luca dropped the lifeless body to the floor.
He was covered in soot and blood, his suit jacket torn to ribbons, a deep gash bleeding down the side of his temple. In his right hand, he held a smoking automatic shotgun.
He looked at Luna holding the smoking Beretta, standing over the dead mercenary.
"You're a fast learner," Luca whispered, his voice hoarse and raw.
Luna slowly raised the Beretta, leveling the barrel directly at Luca’s chest.
Luca froze.
The silence between them was heavier than the gunfire raging on the floors below. Luna’s hands trembled, the front sight of the pistol hovering over the exact spot where his heart beat beneath his ruined shirt.
"Give me one reason," Luna choked out, tears cutting clean lines through the soot on her cheeks. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't pull this trigger, Luca."
Luca lowered his shotgun, letting it hang loosely at his side. He didn't raise his hands. He didn't step back.
Instead, he took a step forward, closing the distance until the cold steel barrel of Luna’s gun was pressed directly against his breastbone, right over his heart.
"I won't give you a reason," Luca said softly, his green eyes looking into hers with complete, devastating surrender. "If you want my life, take it, Luna. It belongs to you anyway. But let me get you out of this building first. Don't let Dante Vance touch you. Kill me after. But let me save you first."
Luna stared at him, her finger trembling against the curved steel of the trigger.
May you like
Before she could speak, a slow, mocking clapping echoed from the end of the ruined corridor.
***
