Chapter 51: SCARS BENEATH THE SKIN
The rain had stopped two days ago, but the world outside still smelled like it, fresh and new, like the earth itself was trying to wash away the blood and chaos that clung to me.
I sat on the wide windowsill of Luca’s bedroom, knees drawn to my chest, staring out into the gray morning. My wrists still ached from the ropes. My heartbeat still stumbled when footsteps echoed down the hall. And yet, here I was, in the safest place I’d ever known... terrified of what that meant.
The door creaked open. I didn’t need to look to know it was him.
"Still avoiding me?" Luca’s voice was soft, uncharacteristically so, like even his words didn’t want to startle me.
"I’m not avoiding you," I murmured, eyes fixed on the dripping eaves outside. "I’m... thinking."
He stepped closer. "About what?"
I bit the inside of my cheek. "About how close I came to disappearing. Again."
Silence stretched between us. Then the bed dipped as he sat down behind me. "You’re not disappearing," he said firmly. "Not while I’m breathing."
I turned to face him. His eyes, steel-gray, always so unreadable, were raw today. Haunted. "You almost died trying to get me back."
He exhaled slowly, leaning forward until his forehead nearly touched mine. "There wasn’t a choice, Aria."
"You could have let them keep me," I whispered, testing him, testing the fragile tether that had formed between us.
He scoffed. "And let Isabella and those bastards touch you? Not a chance."
His fingers hovered near my cheek but didn’t touch. It was the closest I’d ever seen him to afraid. "Do you know what it did to me?" he continued, voice rough. "Walking into that place, thinking I might be too late? I’ve bled for this empire. Killed for it. But nothing, nothing, terrified me like losing you."
"Luca..." My voice trembled. "I didn’t know."
"How could you?" His lips twitched in a humorless smile. "I’ve spent my whole life building walls, Aria. And then you showed up and walked through them like they were paper."
I let out a shaky laugh. "You make it sound like I did it on purpose."
"Didn’t you?" he teased lightly, and then his tone softened again. "Every time you argue with me, every time you glare at me, you chip away at the man I used to be."
We were so close now that his breath brushed my lips. My pulse stumbled, traitorous and eager. "And who are you now?"
"Someone who doesn’t want to let you go," he whispered.
The space between us dissolved. His mouth met mine, slow, searching, as if afraid I’d break. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that burned with hunger. It was deeper, aching, a promise wrapped in warmth and trembling breaths.
I melted into it, fingers tangling in his shirt, anchoring myself to the only thing that felt real. The world had tried to tear us apart, and yet here we were broken, bruised, and still finding our way back to each other.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine. "Tell me if this is too much."
"It’s not," I whispered. "I want this. I want you."
Something in his gaze shifted, a mix of relief and desire and something far more dangerous: tenderness.
"Come here," he murmured.
He guided me gently onto the bed, his movements slow, reverent. It wasn’t about control tonight. It wasn’t about power or possession. Every touch asked a question, and every breath I gave him was an answer.
His hand traced the faint bruises on my wrist. "Does it still hurt?"
"Only when you’re not touching it," I said, and his laugh was soft and disbelieving.
He kissed the inside of my wrist, then the hollow of my throat, and finally the corner of my mouth. "I hate that they hurt you."
"I survived," I murmured. "And I came back."
"You came back," he repeated, almost like he was trying to convince himself.
His lips found mine again, deeper this time. I arched against him, all thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. For once, there was no empire pressing down on us. No ghosts. No contracts or blood debts. Just skin and breath and heartbeat.
"Luca..." I gasped when his hands framed my face. "Why do you look at me like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like I’m something you’re afraid to lose."
He hesitated. Then, with a rawness I had never heard from him before, he whispered, "Because you are."
The confession lodged itself deep inside me, stealing my breath. All this time, I had thought I was the one trapped, a pawn in his world. But maybe... maybe he was trapped too. Maybe we both were.
I brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "I’m not going anywhere."
"Don’t make promises you can’t keep," he murmured.
"This one I can." I met his gaze, steady and sure. "I’m not leaving. Not unless you push me away."
His thumb traced my bottom lip, and for a moment he just stared, as if memorizing me. "God help me," he muttered, "I don’t think I could."
The air between us thickened, charged. He kissed me again, and this time there was nothing tentative about it. It was fire and surrender and everything we’d both been too afraid to want. My fingers fisted in his shirt, tugging him closer, until there was no space left to hide in.
Hours seemed to slip away like that kisses that tasted like forgiveness, whispered words that neither of us had dared say before.
At some point, I found myself tracing the faint scar near his collarbone. "How did you get this?"
He looked down and smirked. "Knife fight. Long time ago."
"And this one?" I brushed a lighter mark on his ribs.
"Car bomb." He said it so casually, like it was normal.
I shook my head. "You’ve survived too much."
"Maybe I was waiting for a reason," he said softly. "Maybe you’re that reason."
I swallowed hard, blinking back the sudden sting in my eyes. "You can’t say things like that."
"Why not?"
"Because I might start believing them."
His lips curved into a small, devastating smile. "Good."
The world outside faded to nothing. For the first time since the kidnapping, the nightmares receded. My body remembered what safety felt like, not because I was untouchable, but because someone would burn the world down to protect me.
When the night deepened and exhaustion crept in, I lay curled against him, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear. Luca’s arm draped around my waist, fingers drawing lazy patterns on my skin.
"Aria," he murmured into my hair.
"Mm?"
"I need you to know... I didn’t just save you because it was the right thing to do."
"Why then?"
"Because somewhere along the line, you stopped being a debt I had to pay off. You became... everything."
My breath hitched. "That sounds dangerously close to love."
He chuckled, low and rough. "Yeah. It does."
I tilted my head back to look at him. "Are we really doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"Falling for each other."
He kissed me once more, slow and unhurried. "I think we already did."
And just like that, the walls I had spent months building crumbled. Maybe love wasn’t a lightning strike. Maybe it was this, quiet and relentless, creeping in through the cracks until you couldn’t remember what life was like without it.
I pressed a kiss to his chest and whispered into the darkness, "Then let it happen."