She turned away to hide her sigh of relief, not knowing she had just made a deal with a man who hadn't told the truth in over a decade.
Luciano slept, but peace didn't come with it.
He thrashed under the quilt Grace had wrapped around him, sweat beading across his brow as his mind descended into shadows. His breath hitched. Then came the murmurs—jagged, broken, like a man being dragged back into hell.
Grace sat at the small kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a cold cup of tea. She hadn't moved in an hour. Just listened.
"Don't—don't trust him," Luciano muttered in his sleep, voice thick and strained. "Dante... he sold us out. Blood for money..."
Grace's eyes widened.
Dante.
The name was familiar. Not from her life, but from headlines. From whispered news stories about Italy's crumbling crime syndicates and the power struggle in the U.S. between old mafia bloodlines. The Moretti family had been at the center of it.
Her stomach turned.
He kept going, caught in the grip of a nightmare. "Kill me if you want," he growled. "But don't touch my sister... I'll bury you... I swear—"
A crash.
Grace jumped to her feet just as he jerked violently, knocking the lamp off the table beside him. It shattered. He gasped for air like he was drowning.
She rushed to him.
"Hey! Hey, it's okay—wake up—Luciano!"
His eyes flew open, wild and disoriented. He grabbed her wrist fast—tight.
Her breath caught. For a second, she thought he was going to hurt her.
But then his grip loosened, and his gaze focused.
"You were dreaming," she whispered. "It's over."
Luciano looked around the room like he didn't recognize it. His chest heaved. His jaw clenched.
"You said my real name," he rasped.
Grace swallowed. "You said it first."
Silence.
He let her go, slowly. "You should've let me die outside."
"I almost did."
Their eyes locked. Neither one looked away.
Luciano leaned back against the couch, wiping sweat from his brow. His hand trembled—just slightly.
"You know who I am now," he said darkly. "So why haven't you called the cops?"
Grace crossed her arms. "Because I know a man bleeding from betrayal when I see one. And I know what it looks like to beg for death but still fight to breathe."
He blinked, unsure how to respond.
Grace walked away, leaving him alone in the storm of his thoughts.
But what she didn't see was the way his gaze followed her—sharp, unreadable.
She thought he was the one being saved.
But Luciano Moretti had never believed in salvation.
Only in debt.
And one day, he would repay her mercy...
In blood or in love.