Marked By The Mafia

The gunshot cracked through the air like lightning.

For a heartbeat, Serena couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Her body went cold, her mind blank with terror. The echo of the sound seemed to stretch on forever, bouncing off the church walls and freezing everyone in place.

Then she realized—no one was bleeding. The bullet didn't hit anyone. Luca had fired into the ceiling.

Screams erupted, the crowd scattering in panic. Serena’s chest heaved as smoke curled toward the vaulted roof. Nathaniel grabbed her hand, trying to pull her toward the side door, but Luca’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

“Take them.”

The men moved before she could react—swift, practiced, unrelenting. One tore Nathaniel away from her; the other seized her arm. She screamed, fought, but her struggles were useless. Luca stood in the middle of the aisle, calm amid the storm, watching as his orders unfolded like choreography.

“Luca! Please!” Serena cried, twisting in the grip of the man holding her. “Stop this! You don’t have to—”

He didn’t respond. His expression was unreadable as she was dragged outside into the blinding sunlight.

The next minutes blurred together—car doors slamming, tires screeching, shouts fading behind them. The smell of gunpowder and roses lingered on her skin as the city vanished through tinted glass.

Nathaniel’s voice shouted somewhere behind her, muffled, furious. Then—darkness.

When Serena woke, her head throbbed. The air was cold, heavy with damp stone and metal. She was lying on a narrow bed in a dimly lit room, wrists bound loosely in front of her. The walls were gray, windowless. A single bulb buzzed overhead.

For a moment, she couldn’t tell if she was dreaming. Then she heard it—Nathaniel’s voice, distant but unmistakable, shouting her name.

“Reni! Serena!”

Her breath hitched. She stumbled to her feet, rushing to the door. It was locked.

“Luca!” she screamed, pounding on it with her fists. “Where is he? What did you do to him?”

The door opened.

Luca stood there, calm as ever, dressed in black, a faint shadow of stubble darkening his jaw. His gray eyes found hers, sharp, assessing.

“He’s safe,” he said simply. “Downstairs. I had to make sure he didn’t do something stupid.”

Her voice trembled. “You kidnapped us.”

“I brought you somewhere you’d finally listen.”

“Listen?” She let out a broken laugh. “You think this makes me want to listen? You’ve lost your mind!”

He didn’t flinch. “Maybe I have. But you’re still here, aren’t you?”

She took a step back, anger cutting through her fear. “You can’t just take people, Luca! You can’t control everything you want to keep!”

His gaze hardened, a storm brewing behind his calm exterior. “I tried to let you go. You ran straight to him. You said yes to him. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

Serena swallowed, her voice softening despite herself. “You don’t get to feel betrayed. You broke into my life, destroyed everything, made me afraid of my own heart.”

Luca moved closer, his voice low, dangerous. “And yet, you’re still thinking about me. Even now.”

Her pulse jumped. She hated that he was right. She hated that his presence still pulled at something deep inside her.

“I’ll never love you,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Not after this. Not ever.”

He stared at her for a long moment. Then he smiled—slow, devastating, and so full of pain it twisted something in her chest.

“Maybe,” he said softly. “But I’ll love you enough for both of us.”

She shook her head, tears burning behind her eyes. “That’s not love, Luca. That’s obsession.”

He stepped closer, close enough that she could smell the faint scent of his cologne—dark spice and danger. “Then call it what you want. I don’t care what name you give it. It’s still ours.”

“Let me go.”

He studied her face, then exhaled slowly. “You think I enjoy this? Keeping you here?” His tone cracked, a rare fissure in his composure. “You think I like hearing you beg to leave when I know the world out there will tear you apart?”

“You’re the one tearing me apart!” she shouted.

For a moment, they just stood there—breathing, watching, caught in the current of something neither could name nor escape.

Finally, he turned away, voice rough. “You need to rest. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“I need to see Nathaniel,” she demanded.

Luca’s shoulders tensed. “He’s alive. That’s all you need to know.”

Her voice cracked. “Please, Luca. Just let me see him.”

Something flickered across his face—guilt, maybe, or longing. Then he nodded to one of his guards outside the door. “Bring her some food,” he said. “And make sure she’s not harmed.”

He started to leave. Desperation clawed at her.

“Wait,” she said quickly. “I need to use the bathroom.”

He stopped. His back was to her for a long moment. Then, without turning, he said quietly, “You’re not going to run.”

Serena forced her voice steady. “I just need a moment. Please.”

Slowly, he faced her again. His eyes searched hers—looking for lies, fear, hope. Whatever he saw there made his jaw tighten.

He stepped closer, fingers reaching for the ropes around her wrists. His touch was deliberate, almost tender as he untied them.

The rope fell away, leaving faint marks on her skin. For the first time since the wedding, she could move freely.

Luca’s gaze lingered on her hands, then lifted to her face. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t make me regret trusting you.”

Serena nodded, her heart pounding. “I won’t.”

He stepped aside, gesturing toward the small adjoining door. “Go ahead.”

She hesitated only a second before slipping past him, every muscle trembling.

The moment the door shut behind her, Serena’s breath came in ragged gasps. The room was small—just a toilet, a sink, and a single bulb flickering overhead. But then she noticed it—above the toilet, a small square opening covered with a thin piece of cloth instead of glass.

Her heart lurched. A way out.

She climbed onto the toilet seat, fingers trembling as she peeled the cloth away. Cold air hit her face. The opening was narrow—barely enough for a body to squeeze through—but she was slim. She could make it.

Her pulse hammered.

She pushed one arm through, then her shoulders, twisting, scraping skin against rough concrete. The fabric of her dress tore, catching on the edge. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Almost there.

One last shove—and she slipped through, tumbling onto the hard ground outside. She took one steadying breath.

And then—

The sound of a gun cocking echoed behind her.

“Going somewhere, cara mia?”