CHAPTER 95: THE RETURN OF SHADOWS

The city was too quiet that night. It was the kind of stillness that made the air feel heavy, the kind that whispered warnings before the storm. Aria stood by the window of Luca’s office, the glittering skyline reflecting in her eyes. Her hand absentmindedly rested on the faint curve of her belly, the secret she still hadn’t found the courage to share. Every time she looked at him, every time she saw the exhaustion beneath his stoic façade, she told herself she’d wait just one more day. One more peaceful day before the next fight began.

But peace, as she had learned, never stayed long in their world.

Behind her, Luca’s voice cut through the silence. "You’re restless again."

She turned to find him leaning against his desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled up. His steel-gray eyes studied her, sharp but soft around the edges. The Don was still there, the man feared by nations, but now there was something else too, something vulnerable that only she had managed to uncover.

"I can feel something coming," Aria said quietly. "I don’t know what, but it’s not over, Luca. The families"

"They’re watching," he interrupted, nodding. "They always are. Especially now that we’ve started shifting operations. They think we’ve gone soft."

"Have we?" she asked, half teasing, half serious.

His lips quirked into a faint smirk. "You think the man who once made entire families disappear in a night has gone soft?"

She smiled, stepping closer until she could smell the faint trace of his cologne, dark amber and smoke. "I think the man who tucks me in when I fall asleep on the couch might have."

Luca chuckled lowly, then reached for her hand. "Maybe I have. Maybe that’s what love does, it makes you reckless in ways bullets never could."

Before she could reply, the door burst open.

Matteo’s right-hand man, Nico, stumbled in, his face pale, his breath ragged. "Don DeLuca," he gasped. "We’ve got movement, east docks. It’s the remnants of the Romano family. They’ve made contact with someone we thought was dead."

Luca straightened immediately. "Who?"

"Franco Romano," Nico said. "And Matteo."

The name hit the air like a knife.

For a moment, no one spoke. Aria’s blood went cold. She hadn’t heard Matteo’s name in months. After his failed coup, he’d vanished, no trace, no sightings, nothing. Luca had assumed he was either dead or hiding under someone else’s protection. But now

"Matteo’s alive?" Aria whispered.

Nico nodded grimly. "And he’s coming for you."

Luca’s expression hardened, the warmth vanishing from his eyes. He moved like a shadow, grabbing his gun from the desk drawer. "Get everyone ready. I want guards at every entrance, every car checked, and every shipment verified. No one moves without my say."

"Yes, Don." Nico bolted out of the room.

Aria reached for Luca’s arm. "Luca, wait."

He stopped, his jaw tight. "I told you before, amore, this was coming. Matteo won’t stop until one of us is dead."

Her fingers tightened around his wrist. "Then don’t give him what he wants."

He turned to her fully, his gaze blazing. "He already took enough from me. My trust. My peace. He won’t take you too."

"You can’t protect me from everything!" she shouted, her voice cracking with emotion. "I don’t need a bodyguard, Luca, I need my husband. I need the man who said we’d face everything together!"

The silence that followed was sharp and electric.

Luca’s breath came rough, his anger thinning into fear. "You think I’m not terrified?" he said quietly. "Every night I close my eyes and see him holding a gun to your head. Every time you step outside, I imagine the worst. Do you want to face this together? Fine. But don’t ask me to sit still while my brother comes for the woman I love."

Aria’s heart twisted. The way he said it, "the woman I love," it was raw, almost broken. She stepped closer, cupping his face. "Then let’s fight smarter, not harder. He expects violence. Don’t give it to him. He expects the Don. Give him the unexpected."

Luca caught her wrist, pressing her palm to his chest. His heart thundered beneath her touch. "You always think like a queen," he murmured. "And that’s what terrifies him. You were never supposed to outshine the men."

"Then let’s blind them all," she said fiercely.

He kissed her forehead, quick and urgent, like a silent vow. "Stay here. Promise me you won’t move until I get back."

"Luca"

"Promise me, Aria."

Her throat tightened. "I promise."

He lingered for a moment, his thumb brushing her cheek, then turned and strode out the door. The room felt instantly colder.

For hours, she paced the floor, listening to the distant hum of engines and the muffled chatter of guards over radios. Each tick of the clock felt like an eternity. When the call finally came through, it wasn’t from Luca, it was from Nico again.

"Signora," he said, voice trembling. "We found the ambush. Luca’s convoy was hit. He’s missing."

The world tilted.

"What?" Aria’s voice barely escaped her lips.

"We’re searching the docks now, but there was an explosion."

She didn’t hear the rest. The phone slipped from her hand as panic took over. Her mind screamed that she should stay put, just as she’d promised. But her heart, her heart refused.

Within minutes, she was in the car, the driver barely keeping up with her frantic orders. Rain began to fall, streaking the windshield like tears. The docks came into view, firelight flickering through the smoke, men shouting, and gunfire echoing in the distance.

"Luca!" she screamed, shoving past guards and chaos.

Through the haze, she saw him, bloodied but alive, fighting off two armed men. Relief and terror collided in her chest. She grabbed a fallen gun and fired, her shot precise, dropping one of the attackers before he could reach her.

Luca spun, disbelief flashing across his face. "Aria, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Breaking my promise," she said breathlessly. "You’re not dying without me."

Despite the chaos, his mouth curved into a small, incredulous smile. "You stubborn woman."

Then another gunshot cracked, and Matteo stepped from the shadows, his face twisted with rage and betrayal. "You chose her over me, brother," he snarled. "You always did."

"Because she’s worth more than anything you ever stood for," Luca growled back.

Matteo raised his gun, his hands trembling. "Then let’s end it."

Before he could pull the trigger, Aria stepped forward, blocking Luca with her body. "You’ll have to shoot me first."

Matteo froze. For a split second, confusion flashed in his eyes, maybe even regret. But then, his finger twitched on the trigger.

A single shot rang out.

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then Matteo stumbled backward, clutching his side. Luca’s gun was still smoking.

Aria’s breath caught. Matteo fell to his knees, eyes wide with disbelief. "You shot me?" he rasped.

Luca’s voice broke, hoarse and full of pain. "You left me no choice."

Matteo’s gaze flickered to Aria, then softened, as if some part of him understood too late. "You were supposed to save us, Aria. Both of us."

Then he collapsed.

Rain poured harder, washing the blood into the dirt. Luca dropped his gun, catching Matteo before he hit the ground completely. For a long, agonizing moment, he just held his brother, his shoulders shaking with silent grief.

Aria knelt beside him, her hand finding his. The fire around them hissed in the rain, the echoes of violence fading into stillness.

When Luca finally looked up, his eyes were raw, filled with heartbreak. "It’s over," he whispered.

Aria squeezed his hand. "No," she said softly. "It’s just beginning."

Because even as they knelt there, broken, soaked, and surrounded by ruin, they both knew what came next. The empire could rise again. The family could heal. But nothing would ever erase the blood spilled between brothers.

And the shadows that had returned tonight would take a long, long time to fade.

The aftermath was a haze of sirens and statements, with medics swarming the docks like ants on spilled sugar. Luca’s wound was superficial, a graze along his ribs, but the deeper cut was the one no bandage could cover. He sat in the back of an ambulance, staring at Matteo’s covered body as it was loaded away, his face a mask of stone cracked by grief.

Aria refused treatment until she was sure he was stable, her hand never leaving his. "You didn’t kill him," she whispered fiercely. "He forced your hand. You protected us."

He didn’t respond, just pulled her close, burying his face in her hair. The rain had stopped, leaving the air clean, almost mocking in its freshness.

Back at the estate, dawn crept in gray and reluctant. Luca locked himself in his study, poring over reports, tracing Matteo’s final moves. Franco Romano was in custody, spilling secrets for a deal, but the betrayal ran deeper than one man. Matteo had allies in shadows Aria never imagined, old debts called in from graves long closed.