-"You're worth every sin."-
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(Play song now)
Luca didn't believe what his ears had heard. It seemed like gibberish like he had been stabbed with the truth. He didn't notice that men began to surround them from every corner.
It was a trap...but he didn't care.
"I got a call from someone, saying they needed help in firing the bullet, so I gave it to them," he heaved as the laughter became too much as his eyes teared. The men that surrounded them cocked their guns, getting ready to pull the trigger.
Luca's grip tightened on his neck unknowingly.
"I saw her look at me! The bitch knew what was happening, yet she walked right in! How does it feel that someone got killed because of you...again!" he shrilled, too distracted to notice Luca's absent-minded tightened grip. His chaotic laugh filled the halls of the building and echoed in his ears.
Of course, Ricci didn't know who Midnight actually was and what her secret reputation was but he just knew that she was involved with the King and he jumped at the opportunity to do anything to take him down.
But he would regret it when he saw the importance and power she held over the Don and the whole world.
Luca's eyes had turned pure gray, not a storm in sight. His pupil had shrunk until it was a microscopic bead. The lightning and thunder in his eyes that had been there before, had disappeared.
It was completely calm...like the wind.
But it was a hurricane....and it was brewing fast.
He wasn't himself anymore...he was something else.
Something malevolent.
Something sinister.
Something like...wrath.
His mud eyes flooded with horror. His body trembled in his hold, finally realizing the air was leaving his lungs. Small ragged breaths escaped his mouth as his fingernails dug into his hands.
His fingers closed around his neck, pressing... curling. The edge of his vision grew dark while his lungs burned and his body thrashed and the overwhelming urge to breathe overtook him.
The panic killed him first.
Luca didn't even know he killed him, he didn't even know who he was or where he was.
He just knew someone hurt what was his.
And he knew that he didn't need his gun or knives to get revenge.
His jaw tightened so much, you could hear it crack. He balled his fists and took a look around him and saw the men around him had looks of terror while lowering their pistols. His blood was boiling.
It was all too fast to comprehend.
One second he was punching, strangling, using their own guns against them, and taking every chance to kill someone.
Not remotely sane enough, Luca kicked the last body to the side, the impact making a gallon of gasoline spill all over the floor. As the last member of the Ricci Cartel took his last breath, he got out his pocket lighter and flicked it open.
Then he dropped it, just as his head dropped as death came to him.
Then the place was up in flames.
While the walls burned he still beat and carved out hearts like it was breathing. He beat dead bodies, knowing that they were already dead. He wouldn't stop. He couldn't stop.
He had just killed over two hundred people and he didn't feel an ounce of guilt for it.
His ears went silent and he couldn't hear anything.
He stood quietly while the fire spread around him. It was an inch close to him yet he didn't move. He couldn't move.
"Luca!" a smooth, melodic voice spoke to him. Stern and almost annoyed, it called him.
It was monotoned yet strong. He didn't turn around, in case it was his imagination. A cold, gentle hand touched his bloody fist.
"Fucking idiot," she growled under her breath.
It pulled him, guided him away from the flames. He couldn't see the person who held his hand through the fire and dead bodies because the smoke blinded his vision. All that caught his attention were the familiar golden chains and medallions.
Once they reached outside, he could see her properly against the sunset.
His Diavola.
"I hate men," she cursed once more, under her breath.
Her eyes were drowsy and dark, worse than he had seen before. It was evident that she still needed time to rest and heal even though she was hurting herself more by fighting every night.
"I don't appreciate walking into a burning building, asshole," she grumbled as she examined his hands that were drenched in blood. She was irritated since most people didn't come to Italy to stop someone from causing another Ferni Massacre.
She knew who the person was behind Wrath, but chose to keep it a secret. She knew for 9 years.
She led him to her G-wagon and got out a cloth and a bottle of whiskey after she opened the trunk and sat on the edge with her legs dangling. She screwed the top off and gulped it before setting it down and grabbing a bottle of water and drowning his hands in the clear liquid, washing away the blood.
This was the first time she had touched him. Her skin was cold and soft and felt like missing puzzle pieces in his palm. His skin was overly warm and smooth and felt safe against hers.
The interaction made his mind snap out of the daze he was in. His pupils dilated as he caught a glimpse of her flawless face.
"You are so fucking stupid," she scolded as she wrapped his hands gently and carefully but fast.
"I thought tantrum protocol was a joke but I guess not," she mumbled, mostly to herself.
He looked down to see burns and bruises on her bare waist. Her top revealed some of the bandaging on her chest and he couldn't tear his eyes away from her wounds.
But he didn't know where the bruises came from since it wasn't there before. After seeing her fight the past week, he made sure to memorize where all her wounds were and making not whether or not she injured them more fighting. And if she had, Luca immediately called Dr. Salib to check on her.
But he had never seen these bruises.
He tightened his fists again, holding her hand in his, and prevented her from moving it.
"Where did the bruises come from?" he scowled. His voice was deep and darker than normal. She used her other hand to put away the cloth so that she was holding nothing but his hands.
"It doesn't matter," she dismissed as if she knew nothing.
"Tell me," he demanded. He moved closer to her until his torso was right in between her legs and mouth a few inches from hers. Even sitting up, he was still taller than her. He forgot who he was talking to.
"I don't have to tell you anything," she warned, her anger matching his. Her tired black eyes gazed into his stormy ones.
He gently put his hand over her burns on her toned and small waist and watched as she tried to move away from his touch, flinching away in case he would hurt her. His hands felt so good on her skin even though they shouldn't have been. Her body still tensed rock solid, and her eyes still showed no emotion at all.
"Who. Did. It, " he said lowly, caressing the marks with his thump as he tried soothing her. She shook her head in an attempt to be stubborn.
But that did nothing to stop his thoughts. He sighed, letting her get away with it and knowing she didn't want to talk about it.
Thinking back to what just happened, he couldn't shake away the idea that since it was Ricci's bullet and he owned his territory and cartel that it was somehow his fault and he could've stopped it.
"I was the reason you got shot. I'm sor-" he began before she cut him off. She grabbed his wrist and held it up to her heart wound.
She took a deep breath. She didn't know what she was doing but at the moment it felt right.
"It's still beating. It wasn't your fault," she told him, her voice still threatening. He felt the slow beat of her heart and noticed it was beating slower than normal. It seemed like it beat once every two seconds.
What she really wanted to say was this: "Fucking stupid asshole. I'm the one who got shot and walked into a burning building to save your dumbass and you're playing the victim? Fucking men and their nerve,"
But she held back her words. He had good intentions.
He looked in her eyes to find any hint of emotion but she gave him nothing.
His thumb circled on her waist, taking in the smoothness of it and somehow making up for his mistakes. While her hands rested at her sides she wanted nothing more than to touch him again.
But he wasn't hers to touch.
No matter how much she wanted his intentions to be true, he would never change for her.
He would never change, and she wouldn't change either. She would never show emotion and she would never give up her lethal ways just for him.
But they were both wrong about their perceptions of each other.
He had already stopped his fuckboy acts the second he saw her for the first time. He had already begun to change for her even though she didn't know it.
They were both changing for each other but they didn't know it yet.
Because Midnight would never walk into a burning building for just anyone.
And certainly, never hold back her words for anyone.
Or patched up the wounds of another.
And Luca doesn't kill one of his most trusted cartels for one person.
And he most definitely doesn't try to apologize. To anyone.