Luca Balsa Idv Novels & Stories

“Once again I apologise for the impromptu visit and thank you for letting us in. Goodwill from Balus.” Luman stretched forward the package containing a number of things. Damian looked at it and laughed. “I do not accept your goodwill, Balus. I believe you need them more than I do. Now go straight to the point, I am a busy man.” He climbed the podium and took his seat. “I need your help. Help me defeat Lucius and crush Westwood,” Alpha Balus said with clenched jaw.

I called. The door opens just enough for Elianna’s head to pop through. “Am I interrupting?” she asks, eyes scanning the room before landing on me. “You look like hell.” Luca exhales a small laugh and stands, tossing the tape roll back into his bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says. “Tomorrow?” I blink. He slings the strap over his shoulder. “Every other fighter in Rome wants a shot at Belva.” A small smirk. “You’re making us some cool cash.”

Luca stood frozen in the middle of the hallway, clutching his schedule and trying not to let the desperate ache in his chest show on his face. "You okay, man?" Luca turned to find a tall Black boy with kind eyes and an easy smile watching him with concern. "Elvis Washington," the boy said, extending a hand. "And you look like you've seen a ghost." "Luca Hampton." He shook Elvis's hand gratefully. "And yeah, something like that."

Worse than anything either of them was ready for. Luca closed his eyes. “I wasn’t just someone they wanted to recruit,” he whispered. Aiden didn’t move. Luca opened his eyes, tears stinging. “I was engineered.” Aiden froze. “What?” “They didn’t ki dnap me to break me,” Luca whispered. “They created me.” Aiden stepped back like he’d been hit. Luca choked on the air. “And the number on that tag… L-08… It means I’m not the only one.”

- LUCA The front door hadn't even stopped vibrating from the force of me slamming it in Ivy's face before I felt my mother's shadow fall over me. I stood there, staring at the dark wood, my chest heaving. The adrenaline from the festival, the anger at Ivy's poison, and the hollow ache of the last few days were all colliding in my gut. "She's a viper, Luca. But she's a viper you let into the garden," Helena said. Her voice wasn't scolding; it was tired.

Luca stood up, hands buried deep in his pockets, and approached the window, gazing out as his mind raced with a myriad of thoughts. Yet, amidst the jumble of his musings, one question loomed largest: why did Elena meet with Carlos? Luca had orchestrated Carlos's release from police custody for a reason; he knew Carlos was responsible for assaulting Elena. Carlos had confessed to Luca, and his decision to set him free was driven by a desire to uncover the truth about their relationship. Now, their unexpected encounter carried a singular implication. Luca pressed his lips together, grappling with the reality he was reluctant to accept.

"All you've done is lie to me, Luca. You used the kindness I had for you against me. You used our Sibling-hood against me! All the time I thought you were fighting for justice, you were the cause." Senna turned to look at me in confusion. "What are you talking about, Balia?" I pushed past him and looked up at Luca, whose expression darkened. "Diablo is just using you. He has been doing so for a long time, but you're too blind to see it!" Luca laughed. "Be told me you were going to say this. Wait, you expect me to believe you over him? Someone who had protected me for a very long time over a useless and miserable sister like you?!"

I said. Beneath my photo, small white text. Lucia De Luca. Female. 23 years old. Blood type A. Height 160 cm. Weight 80 kg. Status: Wanted alive. Price: $500,000. I read it again. Wanted alive. Price: $500,000. "That's not all," Alexandro said. He scrolled down. A list of my organs, separated, one by one. I covered my mouth with both hands. "I don't want to see this, Ale. Please."

ISABELLA "What exactly is this ledger?" I ask Luca who is constantly pacing around the cabin. Luca stops pacing. He pockets the phone and turns to face me. "It’s your father's life's work," Luca says smoothly, his deep voice filling the small space. "Alexei Romanov didn’t just run a Syndicate, Isabella. He was a paranoid architect. For twenty years, he painstakingly built a comprehensive intelligence file on the Volkov Bratva. He documented everything. Every hidden offshore account they use to launder money, every corrupted politician and judge they own, every undercover asset, and every illicit trade route running through the ports."

Behind her came in Luca Rossi. Aiden had expected him, of course. Luca was Isadora’s shadow—her assistant in title, but inseparable in practice. Tall, dark-haired, Italian by birth but American by ambition, Luca wore a tailored navy suit that hid the build of someone who spent mornings in the gym rather than boardrooms. He carried a slim leather portfolio—no tablet, no phone visible. Like Isadora, he preferred paper for sensitive matters. Smart. Unhackable.