Chapter 12: Threat at Dawn

 Chapter 12: Threat at Dawn (Alessio’s POV)

Morning light crept through the penthouse windows, soft and golden, mocking the blood on our hands from last night.

I woke alone. The bed was cold on Luca’s side, sheets still tangled from where he’d taken me apart on the rug hours earlier—slow, reverent, every whispered “good boy” and “you’re mine” burning into my skin. I’d fallen asleep with his arms around me, his heartbeat steady against my back.

Now the apartment felt too quiet.

I pulled on one of his shirts—black, oversized, smelling like him—and padded barefoot to the living room. The city sprawled below, indifferent. No sign of Luca.

My phone buzzed on the kitchen island. A text from an unknown number.

*Nice work in Queens. Irish send regards. Next time, we take something you care about.*

Attached: a photo. Grainy, taken from a distance. Me, stepping out of the SUV at the warehouse last night. Luca’s hand on my lower back. Clear enough to identify us both.

My stomach dropped.

I stared at the screen, pulse hammering. This wasn’t random. Someone had been watching. Close.

The front door opened. Luca walked in—still in last night’s clothes, hair damp from rain, expression hard.

He froze when he saw me holding the phone.

“What is it?” he asked, voice low.

I turned the screen toward him.

Luca crossed the room in three strides, took the phone. His face didn’t change, but his jaw tightened until I heard the muscle pop.

“Sent an hour ago,” I said. “After we got back.”

He scrolled, jaw working. “They’re escalating. Fast.”

“They know I was there. They know I’m not just decoration.”

Luca set the phone down carefully. Too carefully. “You’re not going anywhere alone. Not until we handle this.”

I stepped closer. “I’m not asking for a bodyguard. I’m asking what we do next.”

He looked at me then—really looked. The enforcer mask cracked, just a fraction. Worry. Fear. For me.

“We hit back harder,” he said. “But smarter. I’ll call Enzo. We need intel on who’s feeding them our moves.”

I nodded. “And tonight?”

“Tonight we lock down. No events. No outside meetings.” He reached out, fingers brushing my cheek. “And you stay here. With me.”

I caught his hand, pressing it to my face. “I’m not scared, Luca. I’m angry. They think they can threaten us? After everything?”

His thumb stroked my lip. “You’re braver than most men I know.”

Heat bloomed under my skin. “Praise me later. Right now, I want to help. I’m not sitting on the sidelines.”

Luca’s eyes searched mine. Then he nodded—slow, decisive. “Fine. You’re in. But you follow my lead. No arguments.”

“Deal.”

He pulled me against him, arms wrapping tight. I buried my face in his neck, breathing him in—rain, gun oil, safety.

“We end this,” he murmured against my hair. “Together.”

I tilted my head back. “Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“When it’s over… no more hiding. No more ‘this is a mistake.’ You and me. Real. Out loud.”

Luca’s grip tightened. “I promise.”

He kissed me then—deep, slow, like a vow.

The phone buzzed again. Another unknown number.

Luca pulled back, eyes hardening.

I glanced at the screen.

*Tick tock, Rossi. Your pretty husband won’t look so good in pieces.*

Luca’s face went cold—killer cold.

He looked at me.

“Get dressed,” he said quietly. “We’re not waiting for them to make the next move.”

I nodded, adrenaline surging.

The war had just come home.

And we were ready to burn it down.