Rescued by Darkness

The Flight Home

The hum of the jet's engines filled the cabin, a low, constant sound that usually brought Lorenzo a sense of control, a reminder that he ruled the skies just as much as the streets below. But tonight, something different filled the air—a small, fragile life cradled in his arms. Luciana. The name echoed in his mind as he held the tiny girl against his chest. She was still so afraid, trembling slightly, but there was a flicker of trust in her wide green eyes.

As the jet sliced through the night sky, Lorenzo sat in silence, his large hands cradling Luciana as gently as he could. It wasn't a strange feeling, this protective instinct. It was one he hadn't felt in a long time—ever since his boys had grown up. Each of his five sons had been cradled in these arms once, but never had he held a daughter. He had never known what it would feel like to hold a baby girl, a princess to spoil and protect. Now, that long-buried feeling stirred deep within him, pulling him toward her with a gentleness he thought he had left behind.

Luciana, for all her fear, seemed to be slowly adjusting to the new warmth surrounding her. She was no longer stiff with terror, though every creak of the plane or passing shadow still made her flinch. But with each passing minute, she seemed to settle deeper against him. Her small hand, barely the size of his thumb, clutched at his shirt as though afraid he might disappear.

Lorenzo's hazel eyes softened as he looked down at her. She was so fragile, so breakable, and yet there was a spark of strength in her, even if it was hidden beneath layers of trauma. He gently ran a hand through her light brown hair, careful not to wake her. She stirred at his touch but didn't pull away. In fact, she snuggled closer to him, her little body seeking the warmth and safety he offered.

The flight attendant approached cautiously, her gaze flicking from Lorenzo to the tiny bundle in his arms. But Luciana, sensing someone else nearby, immediately tensed. Her little eyes snapped open, wide with panic. She whimpered softly, turning her face into Lorenzo's chest, trying to hide.

"Stay back," Lorenzo ordered, his voice low but firm. His eyes never left Luciana as he tightened his arms around her protectively. The last thing he wanted was to scare her again.

The flight attendant nodded and quickly stepped away. Lorenzo could feel Luciana's rapid heartbeat against his chest, the panic still lingering just beneath the surface. He whispered to her softly, his voice gentler than anyone in his world would ever hear. "It's okay, bambina. No one will hurt you."

His words seemed to calm her. Slowly, her breathing returned to a steady rhythm, and her little hand once again found his shirt, clutching it as if to ground herself. He could feel the trust building between them—a fragile, delicate thing, but real nonetheless.

As the hours passed, Luciana began to drift off into a deeper sleep. Lorenzo held her close, his mind wandering. He thought of his sons—Nico, Xander, Leo, Mason, Cassio—and how quickly they had grown from boys to men. They had been strong, even as babies, with the same fire in their eyes that still burned today. But this little girl was different. She wasn't a fighter yet. She was vulnerable, delicate in ways his boys never were.

And Lorenzo realized, with a pang, that he had never had the chance to care for a baby girl. He had always wondered what it would be like to have a daughter, someone to spoil, to protect from the world's dangers. Now, holding Luciana, that long-buried desire returned. She would be his princess. She would be protected from every shadow, every threat, and anyone who dared harm her would face a reckoning they could never imagine.

The jet began its descent, the sky outside shifting from deep black to the faint glow of dawn. Naples lay below, its streets quiet in the early morning. The D'Angelo estate loomed in the distance, but Lorenzo's focus remained on Luciana. He barely noticed the plane touching down or the murmured words from the crew. His world, at this moment, was the tiny life sleeping in his arms.

Rocco was waiting at the bottom of the stairs when Lorenzo stepped off the plane. He glanced at the boss, then at the baby in his arms, but said nothing. Rocco had seen Lorenzo in countless situations, from business dealings to bloodshed, but this was different. Lorenzo, the feared mafia boss, looked down at the sleeping baby in his arms with something Rocco hadn't seen in years—gentleness.

"Everything's ready," Rocco said quietly, though his eyes flicked curiously to Luciana. "Boss, you want me to—"

"No," Lorenzo interrupted, his voice soft but firm. "I'll carry her."

Without another word, they walked toward the waiting car. Luciana stirred slightly as they drove, her small hand reaching for him even in sleep, as if needing the reassurance that he was still there. Lorenzo held her close, his heart tightening at the thought of what this little girl had gone through. Her fear of everyone but him was still evident, her wariness of the world around her lingering in every tiny movement.

As they approached the gates of the D'Angelo estate, Lorenzo's gaze lifted toward the mansion. His family was waiting inside—Alessia, his wife, and their five sons. How would they react to this sudden addition to their world? A baby girl, scarred and frightened, thrust into their lives.

But none of that mattered right now. What mattered was that Luciana was safe. She was his now, and nothing—not the dangers of his life or the cold, brutal world he ruled—would ever touch her again.

Lorenzo looked down at her sleeping face, his hand resting protectively over her tiny body. She had found her place, nestled against him, and he knew in that moment that she had become a part of him, a part of his family, in ways he hadn't expected. She was his princess now, and the world would bend to keep her safe.