Chapter 4 - The Mark of the Past
Elena froze in his arms, the breath stolen from her lungs. She stared down at the blackened, puckered flesh on Luca's wrist. The crest was unmistakable: a twin-headed raven clutching broken chains.
""You knew my father,"" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the roaring wind in the courtyard pines.
Luca didn't answer immediately. He lifted her fully into his arms, carrying both her and the swaddled baby as easily as if they were made of feathers. He carried her through the towering arched mahogany entrance, ignoring the bowing staff lined along the vast, vaulted foyer.
""Julian Vance was many things,"" Luca said, his voice dropping an octave as he mounted the sweeping marble staircase. ""A smuggler. A liar. A survivor.""
""He was murdered,"" Elena argued, clutching the baby tighter to her chest, acutely aware of the warmth radiating through Luca's shirt. ""Mateo told me my father died in an accidental warehouse fire.""
Luca stopped at the landing, looking down into her wide, panicked eyes. The smirk from the hospital corridor was entirely gone, replaced by a dark, fathomless solemnity.
""Mateo set the fire, Elena.""
The revelation hit her like a physical blow. The world spun sickeningly. She had married the man who executed her father, believed his condolences, wept on his shoulder while he wiped away her tears with hands stained in her family's ashes.
""Why?"" she sobbed, unable to hold back the torrent of grief and nausea. ""Why did he do it?""
""Because your father stole something irreplaceable from the syndicate,"" Luca said, continuing down the dimly lit hallway toward a private suite at the end of the corridor. ""Something Julian hid where no one could ever reach it. At least, until today.""
He kicked open the heavy oak door to an opulent master bedroom, stepping inside.
""Rest,"" Luca commanded, gently lowering her onto the silk duvet. ""A doctor will be here in five minutes. Do not lock the door.""
""What did my father steal?"" she demanded desperately, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt as he turned to leave.
May you like
Luca looked down at her fingers, then down at the peaceful face of the sleeping newborn in her arms.
""He stole the boy you're holding.""
