A Fragile Thread

Chapter 17:

Luca POV:

I should've been there.

I didn't know how many times that thought had crossed my mind. A hundred? A thousand? It never changed anything, but it still haunted me like a ghost, whispering in the back of my mind every time I looked at her.

She was right there, just a few rooms away, small and quiet, curled into herself like she didn't want to take up too much space. Like she didn't know she was allowed to exist without permission.

That wasn't how it was supposed to be.

I had barely known her before she was taken. She had been a baby, tiny and helpless, but I still remembered her. I remembered how she fit against my chest, how she'd grip my fingers with hers, how I swore even back then that I would protect her.

And I had failed.

I leaned back in my chair, staring blankly at the papers in front of me, knowing damn well I wasn't getting anything done tonight. My mind was somewhere else—stuck in the past, stuck in the what-ifs, stuck on her.

I wanted to ask.

I wanted to know what had happened to her.

Every time I looked at her, I could see the weight she carried, the ghosts in her eyes. I could see the way she hesitated before speaking, like she had to measure every word, like saying the wrong thing would have consequences. I could see the fear, the exhaustion, the way she watched us when she thought we weren't looking.

I wanted to know what they had done to her.

I wanted to know so I could make them pay.

But I was scared.

Scared of what she'd say. Scared of how deep the damage went. Scared that no matter what I did, I would never be able to fix it.

And I wanted to fix it. God, I wanted to fix it.

I didn't just want her to be safe. I wanted her to be happy. I wanted her to smile without hesitation, to laugh without flinching, to know—really know—that she wasn't alone.

I wanted her to have the childhood she had been robbed of.

I wanted her to come to me when she was upset, to sit with me like she used to—except she had never really gotten the chance to. I had imagined it so many times, her as a toddler, running around the house, getting into trouble, climbing into my lap when she was tired.

But that had never happened.

She had been taken before she could even walk.

Before I could really know her.

And now, I had her back, and I still didn't know her.

Not the way I wanted to.

I ran a hand down my face, sighing heavily.

I didn't know how to do this.

I knew how to run an empire. I knew how to handle threats, how to negotiate, how to kill a man without losing sleep over it. I knew how to do a million things that no kid should ever have to learn.

But I didn't know how to be an older brother to a girl who had lived through hell.

I didn't know how to fix what had been broken.

All I could do was be here.

And pray that one day, she would let me in. All I needed to think about was that fact that my sister is here, I should feel relieved.

But when I walked down the dimly lit hallway, pausing in front of her door, I didn't feel relief. I felt something heavier—something tight and aching in my chest.