Can you damage someone beyond repair?
Luca plays his role as the loyal underboss. Violent, lethal, flawless. The lapdog, the starboy.
On the surface, he maintains his facade of smirks and casual charm, but beneath the mask, thereʼs a profound dark...
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THE FAINT CLINKING OF POTS and pans fills the air, fusing with the aroma of garlic and simmering marinara. Frank Sinatra’s My Way filters through from the radio in the kitchen, where my mother moves gracefully around the kitchen, crafting Sunday dinner.
In the corner, Sofia is tucked away at the small kitchen table, her nose buried in a thick book, completely oblivious to the world around her.
Torren’s sitting opposite me at the dinner table with Phillip in his arms, his brows knitted together in concentration as he tries to keep my little brother entertained.
“You’re eighteen, Luca,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “High school will be over soon. Have you not stopped to think about what you want to do?”
My mouth pulls into a sneer. “What the fuck is this, career night? You gonna hand me a brochure?”
A flicker of irritation sparks his gaze. “Show some fucking respect when you talk to me.”
“Piss off,” I snap, “And stop finishing all my Ma’s cannoli.”
To prove a point, he reaches over and plops another cannoli into his mouth, unrepentant and smug.
He gives me a brief glance. “What are you planning to do? Get high and fight every night? Get some ink in your skin if you want to fuck up your body that bad.”
“My body is a shrine, you asshole,” I mutter. “Not desecrating it with tattoos.”
That was bullshit. I don’t really give a fuck about my body. I just hate needles.
Torren nods. “Right.”
Christ, he pisses me off. Always acting like he’s got it all figured out. I wasn’t going to stop. Fighting felt good. And the money that I won was mine, fair and square.
I cross my arms and consider him. “You know, if you’re so desperate for a right-hand man, why not put Dom in the seat?”
His gaze turns contemplative. “Dominic’s loyalty lies with his brothers,” he says simply.
“And mine lie with you?”
My cousin lifts a brow. “Don’t they?”
In my head, I curse. The asshole’s right, and he knows it. I respect him. I like that he has a vision. And I truly believe that he’s better than his father.
I offer a half-assed shrug. “Maybe. Doesn’t mean I’m ready to sign up for your cause, though.”
Torren sighs. “Morals are luxury for people like us, Luca.”
“Look, T, I’m not joining, alright? That’s my final answer.”
His expression doesn’t waver, the lines of his face hard and determined. “You will,” he says, like it’s fact.
