Lucca picked it up and waited for Sal to give him the thumbs up.
Sal nodded.
Calmly, Lucca hit the answer button and put it to his ear.
“Hello, Lucca. I have something of yours,” Lucifer mocked.
A low growl escaped Lucca’s throat. “If you hurt her, I’ll fucking kill you and anyone else carrying the Luciano name.”
“Hurt her? I need her. It was only a matter of time before you came for me, anyway. We both know that.”
He did know.
“Don’t worry; I’m not going to hurt her …”—Lucifer paused, his voice becoming proud—“like I did your mother.”
The darkness in Lucca rose, grinning for what was to come.
“That was all I was waiting for.”
At Lucca’s words, the line on the other end went eerily silent before it clicked, ending the call.
Lucifer had just sealed his own fate. The only reason Lucca had kept him alive this long was to prove the man had had a hand in his mother’s death.
Getting up, he didn’t have time to waste. “Go fetch my dog.”
“Where are you going?” Sal asked as he stood.
His voice was grave and dark when he answered, “Suiting up.”
Now he had grounds for war.
He opened the door on the top floor of the casino hotel, not waiting to be invited in.
Dante was in the process of bringing a full glass of dark liquid to his lips, but stopped the moment he saw his son entered his office. His cold, icy blue eyes became colder as he took in his son’s appearance, immediately knowing nothing good was about to come out of his son’s mouth.
Lucca pushed back his freshly cut hair that highlighted his trimmed and shortened beard. Then he adjusted his all black suit while he stood menacingly in front of his father. You could practically smell the rage and thirst for blood coming off of him in waves. It was a rare and frightening sight for anyone to see. The image even gave grown men nightmares.
It was never a good thing to see Lucca dressed in a suit and tie. When the boogieman did put on his black suit, it always meant one thing … Death would follow.
“Explain,” Dante demanded.
“You wanted proof before you wanted war …” The door opened again, and Sal brought in a bound and blind man. “Here it is.”
Taking in the deformed and tortured man was another sight many weren’t ever privy to. Lucca’s masterpieces were works of art, and he was a true artist.
Leaning back in his chair, Dante smiled. “This the man who broke into Nero’s, trying to get to Maria?”
“Yes, but he wasn’t there for Maria.”
An eyebrow raised. “Then who?”
Lucca looked down at his malnourished dog that was silent. “Chloe Masters.”
“Nero’s girlfriend’s scared little friend?”
Lucca adjusted his suit again, those words pissing him off. “You will not speak about her in that way.”
Dante saw it then. “You’re not fucking serious,” he scoffed.
“I am very fucking serious.” The words were spoken in a low growl.
“She’s still practically a child, Lucca.” His father’s face became furious, knowing the severity of how his son felt about her by the look in his eye alone. Dante was bewildered, which made him angry. Lucca didn’t express feelings toward his own family, let alone a girl. “You expect her to stand by you and handle the life you lead? She’s damaged and weak.”
“I told you not to speak about her in that way. Next time, I will make sure those words are your last,” he warned him one final time. “She is neither damaged nor weak, and she will learn to stand beside me.”
The boss shook his head, making it apparent he would never give his blessing. “You are forgetting something …”
“What, that she’s not Italian?” Lucca smiled. “A rule that will end when I take your place.”
“What did you just fucking say?” Dante’s icy eyes steeled into him.
“You heard me. We’re getting tired of choosing women based on blood.”
“You think I’m fucking stupid?” Dante huffed. “I know this, but the higher-ranking members in this family must always be full-blooded Italian men. You, most of all.”
“We do not have time for this right now,” Lucca growled. He had wasted enough time getting to Chloe already.
Filling his father in quickly, he told him about Lucifer being the one to scar Chloe, him protecting her and keeping her at the house, Drago going down for her, and how Lucifer was now holding her captive.
Dante listened to the story, realizing how far down the rabbit hole his son had gone, and all for a girl.
“My men are not going to go to war for you right this second over some girl, not when we don’t even know if Drago is still alive or not!” He had raised his voice, hitting the table, before he got his anger back under control. “Even if I told them to, we’ve been at peace for years. They will not risk that and their lives. They would retaliate against us.”