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 WORLD CRACKED OPEN FOR me last night. Like an egg sunny side up into a sizzling pan. I can still hear the crackle of it in my ears. Luca’s touch lingers—a phantom warmth that’s impossible to shake off.
He had been sneaking into my room for two Fridays now, slipping through my window. And every time, he curled around me—his warm breath fanning against my neck, his arms wrapped around me until dawn.
And then there was last night—where it was more than just warmth. Just thinking about it makes stars burst behind my eyelids, bright and dizzying.
So that was the feeling everyone talked about. The one they chase after.
But while it was the most I’ve ever experienced, it probably didn’t even scratch the surface for Luca. I felt his hardness press into the base of my spine as he slept behind me. But he never acted on it.
Just like every Saturday morning before, this morning he kissed me, long and deep.
And then he left.
He hadn’t done anything wrong, but oh, it’s so cruel. My heart lurches every time he disappears out my window.
I want him close to me all the time, which scares me, because he’s not mine—not really.
And soon enough, he’ll be gone.
I shower then dress quietly. As I’m about to head downstairs, I pause, my grip tightening on the banister as I hear my father’s voice, deep and clipped, coming from the kitchen.
“Hey, sport,” my dad greets Archie, his tone lighter than usual, forced. “What have you been up to?”
He’s home, and he’s playing nice today. I know the drill.
“Nothing,” Archie mumbles.
“Can’t just be nothing all the time.” Dad chuckles like he’s amused, but I know that laugh. It never reaches his eyes.
I take a steadying breath, my stomach twisting as I round the corner to the kitchen.
My father’s gaze flickers over me, and something shifts in his face—an attempt at a smile. “Morning, birdie.”
I nod slowly, managing a neutral, “Morning.”
“I was thinking we could go out for breakfast. Haven’t done that in a while, have we?”
Archie looks at me with a guarded expression, like he’s waiting for a signal on how to react.
“Uh, sure,” I say, trying to keep the edge out of my voice and will Archie to stop making a sour face.
“How about Ray’s?” He taps his fingers against the counter, his usual impatience simmering beneath the surface. “Haven’t been there in years.”
“Ray’s sounds fine,” I reply carefully, avoiding his gaze. “Let me just grab my jacket.”
We pile into the car, silent, as he drives us to a small, run-down diner in Brownsville. I wish I had wings, so I could fly far, far away from my father’s van with the Blue Lives Matter sticker on the windshield.
