Chapter 14 - Luca’s True Confession Under Gunfire: “I Swore an Oath to Protect You Long Before Tonight”
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The federal raid had cleared the ballroom, but the venom of a dying beast lingered in the shadows of the hotel.
While the main contingent of federal agents was processing the arrested delegates in the hotel’s subterranean valet concourse, Luca, Aunt Sofia, Matteo, and I took the private express elevator to the rooftop helipad. Luca’s private Sikorsky S-76 helicopter was idling on the illuminated concrete pad high above the shimmering skyscrapers of the Chicago skyline, ready to fly us back to the safety of the Lake Forest compound where Lily was waiting.
The cold autumn wind whipped my midnight-blue silk dress around my legs as we stepped onto the tarmac.
The city spread out below us like a sea of glittering diamonds, the black expanse of Lake Michigan stretching into the horizon under a moonlit sky.
“Get Hannah and Sofia aboard the aircraft,” Luca ordered Matteo over the rhythmic roar of the helicopter’s rotor blades. “I’ll oversee the perimeter clearance with the ground team.”
Matteo guided Sofia and me toward the open passenger cabin of the helicopter.
Suddenly, a sharp, metallic ping echoed across the rooftop.
*SPANG!*
A high-caliber sniper bullet struck the titanium landing gear of the helicopter, sending a shower of bright orange sparks into the dark.
“Sniper! Rooftop water tower, north side!” Matteo roared, instantly shoving Sofia and me down against the tarmac behind the reinforced landing wheel.
From the shadows of the hotel’s elevated air conditioning superstructure, six armed gunmen emerged—rogue remnants of the Shadow Guard mercenaries, loyal to Giancarlo Rossi’s grandson, left behind with a suicide contract to eliminate the Moretti leadership before the night ended.
*Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!*
Suppressed automatic fire chewed through the concrete near our heads, sending clouds of choking dust into the freezing air. Matteo and our two rooftop guards returned fire instantly, their carbines barking in the wind, pinning the shooters behind the industrial steel ductwork.
Luca didn't dive for cover.
He moved with the terrifying, predatory instinct that had kept him alive for twenty years on the violent streets. Drawing his custom 1911 pistol, he advanced through the gunfire, firing three measured, deafening shots that dropped two of the advancing mercenaries in their tracks.
*BANG! BANG! BANG!*
A bullet grazed Luca’s left shoulder, tearing through the fine fabric of his tuxedo and drawing a thin line of crimson across his white dress shirt.
“Luca!” I screamed in absolute terror, trying to surge out from behind the helicopter wheel.
Matteo grabbed my arm. “Mrs. Moretti, no! Stay down!”
I ripped my arm out of Matteo’s grip. The fear that had paralyzed me for years had no power over me anymore.
Reaching beneath my long silk gown, my fingers found the grip of the ceramic pistol strapped to my thigh. I clicked the safety off with my thumb, leaned out from behind the helicopter tire, and sighted the third mercenary who was lining up a direct shot at Luca’s exposed back.
*BANG!*
The compact ceramic pistol kicked against my palms.
The bullet struck the mercenary squarely in the throat. The man dropped his rifle, clutching his neck with bloody fingers, and collapsed over the rooftop railing, tumbling forty stories into the dark alley below.
Luca spun around, taking advantage of the distraction. In three rapid, lethal strides, he closed the distance on the remaining two shooters, executing them with double taps before the smoke had even cleared from the wind.
Silence fell across the rooftop. Only the roaring blades of the helicopter and the whistling wind from the lake remained.
Luca stood in the center of the helipad, his chest heaving, his smoking gun held at his side.
He slowly turned his head and looked at me.
I was standing there on the tarmac in my four-inch heels, my midnight-blue gown billowing in the wind, my hair partially freed from its chignon, holding a smoking pistol with rock-solid, unwavering hands.
A slow, breathless smile broke across Luca’s rugged face.
“Remind me never to make you angry, Mrs. Moretti,” he said, his deep voice carrying over the rotor wash.
I dropped the gun into Matteo’s waiting hands and ran across the tarmac.
I threw my arms around Luca’s neck with all the ferocious, desperate love in my body. Luca dropped his weapon, wrapping his powerful arms tightly around my waist, hoisting me completely off the ground and burying his face into the crook of my neck.
I felt the warm dampness of blood seeping from his shoulder, but he held me as if he would never let go, his heartbeat thudding like a war drum against my ribs.
“You're hurt,” I cried softly, touching his wounded shoulder with trembling fingers.
“It's nothing. Just a scratch,” Luca whispered against my lips, his breath warm and sweet in the freezing air.
He didn't put me down. He held me suspended above the glowing city lights, his dark gray eyes searching mine with an intensity so pure, so overwhelming, that the rest of the world ceased to exist.
“Hannah,” Luca said, his voice trembling with a vulnerability that tore my heart wide open. “Eight years ago, in that stone chapel in Bavaria... when I put that little silver medallion into your hand before the convoys arrived... I made a vow before God.”
Tears welled in my eyes as the wind whipped our hair together. “What vow, Luca?”
“I swore that if I survived the wars of my father’s empire, I would spend every breath in my lungs searching for you,” Luca confessed, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “When my father told me you had died in Munich... half of my soul died with you. I became a machine. A monster of stone and iron who built an empire because I had nothing left to live for.”
He gently lowered my feet to the tarmac, but kept his hands resting on my waist, pulling me so close that our foreheads touched.
“Eleven months ago, when you walked into my mansion holding that silver tray, with your lowered head and your quiet sadness... I didn't know who you were. But my soul knew. Every time you walked into a room, the darkness in my life lifted. I watched you mourn a daughter whose name I didn't know, and I wanted to tear the world apart just to see you smile.”
He reached up, his rough, scarred thumb gently brushing away the tears flowing down my cheeks.
“You are not my maid, Hannah. You are not an alliance or a political contract. You are my wife. You are the mother of my child. And I swore an oath to protect you long before tonight... an oath that will end only when my heart stops beating.”
A broken, beautiful sob tore from my throat. I rose up on my tiptoes and pressed my lips hard against his.
The kiss was fierce, desperate, and filled with eight years of stolen time, sorrow, and redemption. In that kiss, the cold marble floors of the mansion, the cruel laughter of Charles Whitmore, the humiliating commands of Vanessa Bellini, and the dark nights spent weeping in empty apartments were completely washed away.
There was only Luca.
Only me.
And the unshakeable foundation of a family that had fought through hell to be reunited.
When we finally broke apart, breathless and smiling, Matteo stepped forward from the helicopter door with a clean bandage for Luca’s shoulder.
“Don Moretti, Donna Hannah,” Matteo said, a rare, respectful grin gracing his stoic face. “The airspace is completely cleared. And Dr. Vance just radioed from the estate. Little Lily is awake... and she’s demanding to know when her parents are coming home to build that treehouse.”
Luca looked at me, his gray eyes sparkling with pure, untainted joy.
May you like
“Well, Donna Moretti,” Luca whispered, taking my hand and leading me toward the warm cabin of the aircraft. “We have an important royal meeting with a seven-year-old princess. Let’s go home.”
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