5. Luca

FIVE

Luca

I wake up to a dull ache in my neck, my body stiff from the awkward position I passed out in. With the fire extinguished, the room is now cold and quiet. The power's back on apparently, judging by the twinkling colored lights on the tree.

The faint morning glow is creeping through the windows, adding the allure of a winter wonderland to the scene. I rub the back of my neck, grimacing, before I realize something's off.

The sofa is empty.

Fiamma's gone.

I curse under my breath, sitting up quickly. Damn it. Of course, she snuck out again. She never listens. Always pulling this shit like it's a game. After yesterday I though she realized there are real consequences out there, consequences that will befall her if she keeps messing around .

For a moment, I can't help but remember the way her body felt pressed against mine last night. The heat of her lips, the way she kissed me like she was daring me to lose control. I haven't felt anything like that in a long time. I haven't busted a nut like that in even longer.

But I can't think about that now. I shake off the memory, irritated at myself for even letting it get that far. I'm supposed to be keeping her safe, not getting tangled up in whatever the hell she is trying to bait me into so that I let my guard down.

I stand, stretching out the stiffness in my muscles. Where the hell did she go? I glance at the door, half-expecting her to stroll back in like she just went out for a morning walk as if it were no big deal.

But the knot in my stomach tightens as I realize I didn't hear anything. No doors, no footsteps. And I've never slept that deeply, not even after a rough night.

I walk over to the kitchen sink and splash water on my face. I pull up my jeans and slide on my boots before grabbing my coat and scarf that is draped on the stool at the kitchen bar.

I move toward the door, checking the locks, and that's when the unease really sets in. I slept through it. Whatever happened, I didn't wake up. She's like a fucking cat burglar.

I grit my teeth, cursing under my breath again as I throw on my coat. This isn't like the other times. Something's wrong. I can feel it.

"She better be close," I mutter to myself, irritation rising. I swear, if she's pulled another disappearing act, I'm going to lose it.

I push open the door to the Frost Café, the bell above it jingling as I step inside. The warmth from the place hits me first, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mixing with something sweet.

Normally, I'd appreciate that—a break from the cold outside, maybe even enjoy one of Lucia Bianchi's pastries—but today, I'm not in the mood.

I scan the room quickly, searching for Fiamma, hoping she's sitting in one of the booths, acting like a stupid-ass teenager who pulled one over on her parents just for the sake of doing it. But she's not here. The cafe's busy, early risers chatting over their morning coffee, but no sign of her.

I curse under my breath.

Lucia is behind the counter, chatting with a couple of regulars, her hands busy unpacking trays of freshly baked goods. She's a familiar face, someone I've seen around this town for years, but I'm not in the mood to make small talk.

I approach the counter, forcing a polite smile. "Morning, Lucia."

She looks up, a warm smile crossing her face. "Luca! It's been a while. I was just thinking I hadn't seen you here for a bit. You guys in town for the holidays?"

"Yeah, something like that." Normally, I'd chat with her, maybe even grab a pastry, but I cut straight to the point. "Have you seen Fiamma around this morning?"

Lucia frowns, wiping her hands on her apron. "Fiamma? Is she the pretty young lady with long, dark hair?"

"Yup, that's the one. Dressed out of place, a lot of jewelry."

"No, I haven't seen her. Why? Is she missing?"

I force a casual shrug, though irritation gnaws at me. "Not missing. Just… she wasn't where I expected her to be. I thought she might be here."

Lucia's eyebrows knit together, and she tilts her head, thinking. "No, I've been here for the last hour. Haven't seen her come by. I was here early, dropped off my pastries and decided to have a coffee with a few regulars." She gestures toward a group of older men in the corner, deep in conversation.

"Thanks," I say, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. "If you see her, will you please tell her I'm looking for her?"

She offers me a sympathetic smile, clearly sensing my mood. "I sure will. You know how these young ladies are these days, Luca. She'll turn up."

I nod, though my patience is wearing thin. "Yeah, I'm sure."

Without wasting more time, I turn and leave, the cold hitting me again as I step back outside. Where the hell is she?

It's too early for this kind of game, and I don't have the energy for it after last night .

I head back to the lodge, my steps quicker now, the irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. She must be pulling something again. She thinks this is funny, making me chase after her. Grow the fuck up is what she needs to do.

When I walk into the lobby, Marina Catalano is busy with her morning routine. She's one of the maids, always running around, barely stopping for anyone. Her English is patchy, but she's good at her job, and she knows who Fiamma is.

"Marina," I call, walking over to her as she wipes down a table near the fireplace.

She looks up, her dark eyes widening slightly. "Yes, Mr. Luca?"

"You see Fiamma this morning?" I ask, keeping my voice steady, but I can feel the tension crawling up my spine.

She blinks, thinking for a second before shaking her head. "No… no, I don't see her today. Not at all." Her words are slow, her accent thick, but she's clear enough.

I clench my jaw. Where is she?

"Are you sure?" I press.

Marina nods quickly. "I am sure. No sign of her."

I mutter a thanks and walk away, my frustration reaching its boiling point. It's already 8:00, and I've been looking everywhere I can think of. If she's not here, at the café, or anywhere else around town… then where the hell did she go?

I pull out my phone, my fingers moving quickly across the screen as I send a text to the head of security at the lodge. I don't explain anything in the message. I don't need everyone in the family knowing what's going on—not yet. The last thing I need is Adrian or Elio breathing down my neck before I have all the answers.

Can you meet me in the command office? Need to check something on the security footage.

A few seconds pass, and the reply comes in.

On my way. Be there in 5.

I tuck the phone back into my pocket, pacing the length of the hallway, my mind running in circles. The fact that no one's seen her, not even Marina, only makes me more suspicious. Something feels wrong. Normally, Fiamma would gloat if she slipped past me, but the silence… it's unsettling.

Five minutes feel like an eternity, but finally, the head of security, Vin, arrives, his face as serious as ever. He's a no-nonsense kind of guy, and I appreciate that about him.

"Luca," he greets me with a firm handshake and a nod. "What's going on?"

I motion for him to follow me down the hall toward the command office. "I need to see the security footage from last night and this morning."

"Are you wondering about the power outage? Please I can tell you there were no bad actors there. Unless you want to blame mother nature. "

That isn't a bad thought, considering now she is gone. "No, that isn't it. I want to see when Fiamma left."

Vin raises an eyebrow, but doesn't ask any more questions. He knows better than to press for details. "Alright," he says, unlocking the door to the small office tucked away at the back of the lodge.

Once inside, the low hum of monitors fills the room, and Vin takes a seat in front of the screens. He starts pulling up footage, his fingers moving expertly across the keyboard.

"What am I looking for?" he asks, glancing back at me.

"Fiamma," I say, keeping my voice steady. "Check the exit doors on either side of her hall-entry door as well as her back patio door. I need to know when she left and which way she went. It was late last night or early—before sunrise."

He nods and clicks through the feeds, the screens flickering as he cycles through the cameras positioned around the lodge. I stand behind him, my arms crossed, watching the footage closely. The timestamp reads 5:30 AM, then 6:00, and nothing. No sign of her.

It's not until he switches to the rear exit camera that something catches my attention.

"There," I say, stepping closer to the screen.

The footage is grainy, but unmistakable. At just before 7:00 AM, a man wearing a black ball cap knocks on her door, and she opens it, he grabs her, a hand covering her mouth. They exit out of the back door at the end of the hall to a waiting blacked-out SUV. They pull her out of the camera's view, and the door quietly closes behind them .

My blood runs cold.

"How the fuck did this guy get in here?" I ask, seething.

Vin looks back at me, his scrutiny narrowing. "Who the hell was that?"

"That's what I want to know."

I clench my fists, my jaw tightening as the pieces start falling into place. Fiamma didn't sneak out. She was taken.

The streets of Winter Haven are alive with Christmas cheer. Strings of lights twinkle above the narrow roads, and holiday music drifts from every corner. It feels like the entire town is wrapped in a warm blanket of celebration. But I'm not feeling it. I've got Fiamma on my mind, and every minute that passes without her here just makes the knot in my chest tighten.

I haven't told Adrian or Elio yet. After how pissed Adrian was last time, I'm not about to ruin everyone's holiday unless I absolutely have to. If I need the big guns, I'll call them. For now, I've got Sal.

I spot Sal's hulking frame through the frosted glass of the coffee shop door. He's hard to miss, even in a town full of brawny lumberjack types. As I push inside, the warmth and smell of espresso hit me like a wall.

Sal rises from his seat, all six-foot-six of him unfolding like some kind of mountain. His shaved head gleams under the shop's twinkling lights, and the tattoos peeking out from his collar tell stories I'm not sure I want to know .

"Luca," he grunts, extending a meaty hand. His grip could crush boulders, but I return it without flinching. That's how you show respect in our world.

We grab our coffees and head outside. The cold bites at my face, but I barely notice. My mind's on Fiamma.

Sal's pacing beside me, a silent but menacing presence as we make our way down a side street, away from the crowds. We got a lead—one of Marco's men was spotted near the market earlier this morning, probably trying to blend in with the tourists and locals. But he sticks out like a sore thumb now that we know he's here.

Fucking bastard.

We've been trailing him for a few blocks, keeping our distance as he walks toward an alley just off the market. The guy has no idea we're on him, too caught up in whatever the hell he's doing to notice two shadows following him through the festive chaos. Probably jacked up on crank.

"Got him," I mutter, nodding toward the alley as the thug slips inside, probably thinking he's safe now that he's out of the open.

Sal cracks his knuckles. "You want me to take the lead?"

"No," I say. "I've got this one."

We turn the corner quietly, the sounds of carols fading into the distance. The alley is narrow and dimly lit, lined with dumpsters and the stench of old garbage. The perfect spot for a chat.

He doesn't even see me coming .

I grab him from behind, slamming him hard into the brick wall. He lets out a grunt, his breath knocked out of him, but I don't give him time to recover. My fist meets his gut, and he doubles over, gasping.

Sal steps in, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him upright. "Marco's guy, right?"

The guy tries to play dumb, shaking his head, but it's too late for that. He knows we've got him. I reach into my jacket, pulling out my knife. The blade glints in the faint light as I press it against his throat, just enough to make him sweat.

"Where is she?" I growl, my voice low and dangerous.

He's panicking now, his head swiveling back and forth darting between me and Sal. "I don't know what you're talking about?—"

I slam him against the wall again, cutting him off, and run the tip of my knife along his high cheekbone. The blade is so sharp he probably doesn't feel it, but I'm sure his eye catches the thick, crimson liquid that bubbles up and starts to drip down his face.

"Don't lie to me. Fiamma Luciana. You know who she is. You know who took her. Now tell me where she is, or I'll make this a lot worse for you. And trust me, it won't be quick and painless."

He struggles against my grip, his face growing pale, but he's still holding out. "I swear, I don't know?—"

I slice the knife down, not deep enough to kill, but enough to get his attention. He gasps, blood seeping from the cut along his collarbone. "You don't want to make me ask again. "

The thug whimpers, his knees shaking. "Alright, alright. Marco's got her. He's keeping her somewhere outside town—north, in one of those cabins. The ones that line the highway. But I don't know which one, I swear. I'm just supposed to keep an eye on things, let him know if any more activity starts down here in town."

"You're doing a bang up job, fuckface."

Sal grabs him by the throat, pinning him harder against the wall. "You're a lousy liar, you know that?"

"Please," the thug gasps, his face white with terror. "I told you everything I know. Please don't kill me. I'm just a watchman, that's all."

I look him over, disgust curling in my gut. This guy is just a pawn, a useless one at that. But we can't let him walk away.

I wipe my knife on his shirt, cleaning off his disgusting blood and sheath it, giving him a hard look. "Alright. You'll live. You'll go back to Marco and tell him you never saw us."

He nods eagerly, relief flooding his face. "Thank you. I swear, I won't say a word?—"

Before he can finish, Sal punches him hard in the gut, doubling him over again. I step in, grabbing his head with both hands and twisting sharply. The crack echoes in the narrow alley, and he slumps to the ground, lifeless.

Sal wipes his hands on his jacket, looking down at the body with a sneer. "Should've known better."

I glance back at the entrance to the alley. The faint sounds of music and laughter drift over from the town center where everyone is gathered.

Families are out there, kids laughing, completely unaware of the violence lurking just a few steps away. The town might be dressed up in holiday cheer without a care in the world, but it's got no idea what's happening in the shadows.

"Let's get out of here," I mutter, stepping over the body. "Call the fucking cleaners and get this trash up off the street. No kid needs to see this shit."

Sal pulls out his phone and sends a text.

We walk back into the main street, blending into the crowd like nothing happened. String lights twinkle overhead, and I can't help but think how sick it all is. Fiamma's still out there, and time's running out. But now, at least, I know where to look.