Chapter Six

"What am I to you, Dante?"

The question hung between them. Dante looked at Luca's tear-stained face and knew that whatever he said next would matter more than anything he'd said in five years.

"You're the only person who ever made me want to be better," Dante said finally. "You're the reason I still have nightmares. You're the thing I destroyed to keep you safe, and the thing I can't fix no matter how hard I try."

Luca wiped his eyes roughly. "That's not an answer."

"You want an answer? Fine." Dante leaned his head back against the wall. "You're mine. Not because I bought you, but because you were always mine, even when I sent you away. Even when I spent five years looking for you in every shadow. Even when I knew I had no right to you anymore."

"Possessive bastard," Luca muttered, but there was no heat in it.

"Yes."

They sat in silence. Dante watched Luca from the corner of his eye, watched the way his breathing slowly evened out, the tension leaving his shoulders inch by inch.

"I need to shower," Luca said eventually. "I feel disgusting after that conversation with Marco."

"Want me to have Elena bring up some food?"

"I'm not hungry."

"You haven't eaten since yesterday morning."

Luca pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly. "Stop keeping track of what I eat. It's creepy."

Dante stood as well. "It's not creepy to care if you're starving yourself."

"I'm not starving myself. I'm just not hungry." Luca started toward the stairs, then paused. "Thank you for making Marco leave."

"You're welcome."

Luca disappeared upstairs. Dante heard the bathroom door close, then the sound of running water. He pulled out his phone and called Elena.

She answered on the first ring. "How'd it go with Marco?"

"Badly. Luca had a panic attack."

"Shit. Is he okay?"

"He's showering now." Dante walked to his study and closed the door. "I need you to do something for me."

"Name it."

"Find everyone who hurt him. Every single person who touched him in the last five years. I want names, locations, current status."

Elena was quiet for a moment. "Dante, that's going to take time. And resources. We're talking about an international trafficking network."

"I don't care what it takes. Find them."

"What are you planning to do when I find them?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you're planning to start a war that will paint a target on both your backs."

Dante looked out the window at the gardens below. "They already had a target on his back. They took him and they broke him. Someone's going to pay for that."

"And if Luca doesn't want revenge? If he just wants to move on?"

"Then I'll want it for him."

Elena sighed. "You're going to get yourself killed. Or worse, you'll get him killed."

"Just find them, Elena."

He hung up before she could argue further. His phone buzzed immediately with a text from Marco: *We need to talk. Tonight.*

Dante typed back: *Not tonight. Give him space.*

Marco: *I'm his brother. I have a right to see him.*

Dante: *You'll see him when he's ready. Push this and you'll make things worse.*

Marco: *This is your fault. All of it.*

Dante stared at the message. Marco was right, of course. It was his fault. He'd been the one to start a relationship he had no business starting. He'd been the one to fall in love with someone too young, too innocent, too good for the darkness of his world. And he'd been the one to break Luca's heart so thoroughly that Luca had been vulnerable and alone the night he was taken.

He didn't respond to Marco's message. There was nothing to say that would make it better.

Upstairs, the water shut off. Dante waited, listening to the sounds of Luca moving around in the bathroom. After twenty minutes, he went upstairs and knocked on Luca's bedroom door.

"What?"

Dante opened the door. Luca was sitting on the bed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, his wet hair dripping onto his shoulders. He looked exhausted.

"Dr. Patel is coming tomorrow," Dante said. "Nine in the morning."

"I don't need a therapist."

"Yes, you do."

"What I need is for you to stop making decisions for me." Luca pulled his knees up to his chest. "I'm not a child, Dante. Stop treating me like one."

"Then stop acting like talking to someone about what you've been through is a sign of weakness."

"It's not about weakness. It's about—" Luca stopped, shaking his head. "Never mind. You wouldn't understand."

Dante sat down in the chair by the window. "Try me."

"If I tell someone what happened, if I say it out loud to a stranger, then it becomes real. Right now I can pretend it was all just a nightmare. I can tell myself I'll wake up and be nineteen again and you'll still—" He stopped abruptly.

"I'll still what?"

"Nothing. Forget it."

"Luca."

"I said forget it." Luca lay down on the bed, turning his back to Dante. "Get out. I want to sleep."

Dante stood but didn't leave. "The papers from the auction. I burned them."

Luca went very still. "What?"

"The ownership papers. The receipt. All of it. I burned it this morning." Dante walked to the door. "You're not my property, Luca. You never were."

He left before Luca could respond, closing the door quietly behind him.