The morning light felt too bright for the conversation they had to have.
Elena stood in the living room with her arms wrapped around herself, staring at the phone on the coffee table like it might bite her. Luca was right behind her, close enough that she could feel the steady heat of his body, but not touching. He was giving her space to do this her way.
Sofia and Dante had already left to set up extra security at the Rossi compound. The penthouse felt strangely empty without them.
"You don't have to do it alone," Luca said quietly. "I can talk to him if you want."
"No." Elena shook her head. "He needs to hear it from me. Even if he hates every word."
She picked up the phone and dialed her uncle's number. It rang three times before Marco answered, voice gruff and guarded.
"Elena."
Just her name. No warmth. No "bambina" like he used to say.
She swallowed hard. "Uncle Marco… we have information. Alexander Kane—Maria's son—is planning to hit the compound tonight. He wants it to look like an inside job. Probably pinning it on Gianni or even you. You need to increase security. Lock everything down. Please."
Silence stretched on the other end.
Then Marco laughed, short and bitter. "So now you're feeding me Moretti intel? After choosing to sleep in their bed instead of coming home to bury your father properly?"
Elena flinched. Luca's hand brushed the small of her back—light, supportive. She leaned into it without thinking.
"It's not Moretti intel," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "It's the truth. We saw him last night. He has my locket—the one from my bedroom. He's been inside the house. He's not coming for power, Uncle. He's coming for revenge. For his mother. For everything our families took from him."
Another long pause.
When Marco spoke again, his voice was colder. "If this is true, then you should be here helping us defend what's left of the Rossi name. Not hiding behind Luca Moretti like some traitor."
"I'm not hiding," she snapped. The words came out sharper than she intended. "I'm trying to keep what's left of our family alive. Dad would want that. He wouldn't want us tearing each other apart while Alexander laughs from the shadows."
Luca's hand pressed a little firmer against her back, a silent reminder that he was there.
Marco's tone turned icy. "Your father is dead because of the world Luca's family helped create. And now you're letting that same world pull you away from us. When this is over, Elena… if there's anything left… don't expect a warm welcome home."
The line went dead.
Elena stared at the phone for a long moment, then set it down with shaking hands. Tears burned behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
"He hates me," she whispered. "He really hates me now."
Luca turned her gently to face him. His hands settled on her shoulders, thumbs rubbing slow circles. "He doesn't hate you. He's scared and grieving and lashing out at the easiest target. You. Because you're choosing to fight instead of hiding behind old loyalties."
She looked up at him. Luca's eyes were tired, the cut on his cheek from last night starting to scab over. He looked like he hadn't slept much either.
"I keep thinking about what you said yesterday," she told him. "About how fear started for you when you were eight. How you learned not to show it. I'm trying to do the same, but it's hard. Every time Marco says something like that, it feels like I'm losing another piece of my family."
Luca pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her in a loose hug. She rested her cheek against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.
"You're not losing family," he murmured into her hair. "You're gaining something else. Someone who sees you. Who's scared with you. Who kissed your wrist last night because he needed to remind himself you're still here."
Elena let out a shaky laugh that sounded more like a sob. "You're getting good at this whole 'being honest about the fear' thing."
"Only with you." His voice dropped lower. "With everyone else I still wear the mask. But with you… it feels safer to let it show. Even when it makes me look weak."
"You don't look weak," she whispered. "You look human. And right now, I need human more than I need the cold mafia boss."
They stood like that for a while, swaying slightly in the middle of the living room. No music. No dancing. Just two tired people holding each other up while the world tried to pull them apart.
Eventually Luca pulled back just enough to look at her. "We need to plan for tonight. If Alexander moves on the compound, we'll be ready. But I don't want you there. It's too dangerous."
Elena shook her head immediately. "I'm not staying behind. This is my family's home. My father's blood is still on that floor. I need to be there."
Luca's jaw tightened. Fear flashed in his eyes again—the same raw fear he'd shown her in the container gap. "Elena…"
"Please," she said softly. "Don't ask me to hide. Not when you're going. We said scared together, remember?"
He stared at her for a long moment, conflict clear on his face. Then he exhaled and rested his forehead against hers.
"Scared together," he repeated. "But you stay close to me. No hero stuff. If things go bad, you let me get you out. Promise me."
"I promise."
He kissed her forehead then—slow, lingering, lips warm against her skin. Not passionate. Just grateful. Just needing the contact.
"Thank you," he whispered.
They spent the rest of the day planning with Sofia and Dante. Maps spread across the table. Timelines. Escape routes. Extra men quietly moved into position around the Rossi compound.
By evening, the tension in the penthouse was thick enough to choke on.
Elena changed into dark clothes—jeans, a black sweater, her father's pistol tucked into a holster at her hip. When she came out of the bedroom, Luca was waiting by the door in similar dark attire. He looked at her for a long moment, eyes tracing her face like he was memorizing it.
"You ready?" he asked.
"No," she admitted. "But I'm going anyway."
A small, tired smile crossed his lips. He stepped forward and took her hand, lacing their fingers together the way they'd started doing without thinking now.
"Then we go scared," he said. "Together."
They walked out of the penthouse side by side.
The night air felt colder than it should have. The drive to the Rossi compound was quiet. Elena kept Luca's hand in hers the whole way, even when he needed to shift gears. He drove one-handed when he could, refusing to let go completely.
As the familiar iron gates came into view, Elena's chest tightened.
This was home.
This was where her father had died.
And tonight, Alexander Kane wanted to finish what he started here.
Luca squeezed her hand once, firm and steady.
"We rewrite the ending," he reminded her quietly. "No matter what happens."
Elena nodded, gripping the locket in her other pocket with her free hand.
The gates opened.
They drove inside.
And the real night began.