Chapter three : the blood dept

The Blood Debt (Luca’s POV)

The Rossi estate loomed in the distance, a palace of marble and arrogance.

Luca DeFalco watched it through the tinted glass of his black Jaguar, fingers tapping rhythmically on the steering wheel as rain painted the windows like shattered veins. One of his men had already delivered the message. A warning. A whisper of what was coming.

But it wasn’t Matteo he wanted to unnerve.

It was her.

Eva Moretti.

The girl whose eyes reminded him of Isla Moretti—her mother, the woman who almost destroyed his empire…and his heart.

He leaned back, a cruel smile curling on his lips.

“History repeats itself,” he murmured to no one. “But this time, I get to write the ending.”

Across from him, his consigliere, Vito, shifted uncomfortably. “Matteo won’t take this lightly. You’re provoking a war.”

“Matteo was born in war. He breathes it.” Luca’s voice was calm, too calm. “But I’m not here for a war, Vito.”

He paused.

“I’m here for the girl.”

Vito frowned. “You’re going to use her?”

Luca’s eyes flickered dangerously. “I’m going to take what Matteo thinks is his. And then…” He chuckled, slow and low. “…I’m going to make him watch as she walks away from him and into my world"

The floor was slick with blood.

Eva stood frozen near the foyer stairs, one hand gripping the banister like it might steady her spinning world. The guard who’d been stabbed was rushed away by two men in black, while Matteo barked orders in sharp, furious Italian.

He looked like a fallen god—furious, flawless, and frightening.

“Take him to the infirmary. Tighten the perimeter. Nobody gets in or out without my word.”

His voice echoed through the marble like thunder.

Eva stepped back instinctively. That version of him wasn’t the man who read her mother's journal beside her. This was something else. This was the Don.

He turned to her at last.

“They left this.”

He held out a single item: a torn page.

Eva’s stomach flipped as she took it. It was ripped from an old photograph. Her mother’s face, smiling… and beside her, unmistakably, was Luca DeFalco. The man Matteo had warned her about.

On the back, scrawled in dark ink:

“Like mother, like daughter. -L”

Eva’s hands trembled.

“What does he want from me?” she whispered.

Matteo’s jaw clenched so tight, the muscle twitched. “Power. Revenge. And now, you.”

“Why me? I didn’t even know any of this existed until a few days ago.”

He walked closer, voice low. “But you were born into it. This is the cost of legacy, Eva. Blood follows blood.”

She dropped the photo. “Then maybe I should leave. Get out of this madness.”

Matteo stepped into her space, eyes blazing. “He’ll find you. There’s nowhere you could go where Luca wouldn’t reach you first.”

“Why does he want to hurt you so badly?”

“Because I took what he wanted. Years ago. His brother. His money. His pride. He can’t touch me directly without igniting war, so he’s playing smart. Targeting the only thing I didn’t expect him to want.”

She swallowed hard. “Me.”

Matteo didn’t deny it.

Instead, he reached up and brushed her cheek with his knuckles, voice softening. “I won’t let him have you.”

The words wrapped around her like a velvet noose. He didn’t say it like a man protecting a woman. He said it like a man claiming something.

“You don’t own me, Matteo,” she whispered, barely able to meet his eyes.

His gaze dipped to her mouth. “Not yet.”

Eva stepped back, pulse thundering. “I’m going to my room.”

She turned and left before she could hear what else he might say.

---

Upstairs, her room was dark, the storm now in full force outside. Lightning flashed, illuminating her reflection in the mirror.

She didn’t recognize the woman staring back.

Same eyes. Same lips. But her shoulders carried fear now. And something worse—curiosity. Curiosity about the man whose hands were soaked in blood… and whose eyes searched hers like they already belonged to him.

There was a knock.

She didn’t answer.

Another. Louder.

She swung the door open. A guard stood there with a folded note.

“From Mr. Rossi.”

She took it and closed the door.

Unfolding it, she read:

“He will come for you soon. But he’s not the only one watching.

Lock your windows tonight.

-M”

Her hands went cold.

Across the dark lawn, through the rain-soaked window, a flicker of movement caught her eye.