Luca Balsa Idv Novels & Stories

"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.

“This isn’t over. Someone cleaned him up too neatly.” Luca read her expression. And didn’t ask what she wasn’t telling him. That same night In a hidden wing of the Moretti estate, Luca opened a locked drawer. Inside: — His father’s old contact ledger — Three burner phones — And a list of names not even Amara knew he kept He dialed one. “Tell me,” he said. “Everything you know about Isabel Varela’s captivity. From the beginning.” Because Luca wasn’t just watching her fall. He was preparing for the moment she turned on him, too.

“Fanculo, it's not that hard, is it? It's like riding a bicycle.” “You're sick!” I spat, disgusted with the look on his face. “Si, I am,” Luca replied, lowering himself to a stoop, so he could stare directly into my eyes. “I have a proposition for you, Vera Ivanov. I want you to kill someone for me. Just one person. And in return, I pay you a million dollars and your sister is safe. Pretty generous, isn't it?” A million dollars? What in the world? Who on earth did this man want to get rid of so badly?

“You’re brave, talking to him.” I blinked. “Who?” She smirked knowingly, nodding in Luca’s direction. “Mr. Del Vicchio. People don’t usually get too close unless they have to.” Before I could respond, the auctioneer’s voice rang out again. This time, it wasn’t the item that caught my attention—it was Luca raising his hand to place a bid. “Going once… going twice…” “Sold!” A smattering of applause followed as Luca reclaimed his glass from the bar. He turned, his eyes finding mine again.

It was a message because Basha had found out. Or worse someone was trying to provoke Rafael into self destruction. She sat in her chair for hours that night staring at the photo of Luca hidden inside a hollowed out book. His face was older now and streaked with grey and sorrow but he was alive. Living quietly in a private compound in Montenegro under another name amnd protected by a web of secrets only she could navigate. He’d waited all this time and not for her but for the children they made together. She had failed to protect one and she would not fail again. Her hands closed into fists on the desk because It was time to finish what she started.

I’d graduated top of my class with a double major in chemistry and biology and watching my parents proud faces in the audience while I gave my valedictorian speech had made all the late nights and breakdowns feel worth it. Luca had somehow managed to train for the Olympics while still running the company remotely, and I’d spent the last six months watching him juggle video conferences with volleyball practice in a way that should have been impossible but he made look easy. Then I’d started working full-time at Blackthorne Pharmaceuticals and I’d published two papers in the last six months that were getting attention from people who mattered in the field. And Luca had somehow become a legitim

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."