LUCA

Resting on my knees, I glance up to the person standing before me and I find my own eyes staring back at me. They look cold, detached, and heartless. I barely recognize them nor the way they pity me as if I'm less than human.

"Please," I say, but I'm not entirely sure what I'm pleading for. My life, certainly. I hang my head as a sign of defeat and that's when my eyes find my hands—which don't have a single tattoo on them.

What?

Lifting my chin, I take in the full sight of a man who looks exactly like me—tattoos, piercings, eyebrow slit and all—standing authoritatively, dressed in all black from head to toe. "Luca, please—" I can't seem to finish the sentence.

But did I just call him Luca? My name?

As I twist my neck, I find a reflective surface on the far side of the room and I find that it's not me staring back, but Adiv. I'm Adiv.

It immediately causes me to panic and this feeling of hopelessness washes over me. "Please help." Is this what Adiv saw before Cain ended his life?

Luca's eyes are black. He doesn't move an inch in my direction, despite my pleas.

I feel a presence behind me and I don't have to turn to know that it's Cain. "Nothing can save you now," he taunts, "Not yourself. Not even her."

With that final statement, I feel movement, followed by intense pain at my neck. Instantly, I reach a hand up to find the warmth of blood pouring between my fingers. Desperately, I place my hands to the wound, trying my best to create pressure to stop the bleeding, but then Cain yanks on the blade and pulls and a grotesque sensation tears at my throat as he drags the knife across it.

I immediately feel light-headed and I peer at Luca—at me—as I plead for help with my eyes. I try to speak, but no words will come out. As I attempt to beg, I begin to choke on blood.

The coughs I release result in blood spraying across Luca's expensive, black dress shoes. He takes a glance down at the sight, lifts a leg and shakes the redness off in disgust.

"Pl—" I sink lower, reaching a hand in Luca's direction. As I pull it away to put it back to my throat, I leave a bloody, smeared handprint on the marble flooring.

I know I'm dying, I can feel it. Something inside me is telling me to let go. To die. To sleep. But I fight against it, reaching out for aid in my desperate moment.

Is this honestly how Adiv felt in his final seconds? Did he feel as betrayed by me as I do now?

I can feel myself gradually losing consciousness, the blood loss becoming too much. I've almost entirely lost sense of where I am or what's happening because my body simply doesn't have the energy—almost as if I'm floating in some realm between life and death.

The moment before the ocean finally lulls me to sleep is the moment I wake with a startle. I clutch a hand to my chest as I try to catch my breath.

For a minute, I'm too overwhelmed and I feel as though I'm still sleeping. I've learned tricks to bring myself back—pinching the skin of my arm, splashing water on my face, or standing outside to breathe some fresh air—but more often than not, it takes me some time to truly accept that it was just a nasty dream.

This nightmare keeps happening ever since the night the world lost Adiv. It's the same dream every time, and I must've had it a half dozen times by now. It haunts me every time I finally manage to fall asleep.

I fucking hate it. It makes me feel as if I'm right there in that room again, watching helplessly as my best mate is murdered before my eyes.

It's sick that my brain has twisted the memory, putting me in Adiv's shoes so I'm able to witness my reaction to losing him. The look on my face as Cain stabs the knife in my—Adiv's—neck disgusts me. Is that really what Adiv saw in his last moments?

Memories of him keep coming back, but I know he never will. It's a pain I'll never forget. It'll always be with me, just as he always will.

What in the universe decided that day would be his last? Why him? Why not me?

This shit is torturously cruel. There's nothing obvious to concern me, like a bruise or a lump that I can physically see and feel. Instead, I feel as though I'm slowly and insidiously eroding—like cancer is metastasizing within me. It's fucking eating me alive.

I happen to believe this dream is karmic. It's happening because I didn't do everything possible to save my brother.

Did he see in me what I do every time I look up and meet my own eyes in the dream? Did I appear so heartless and cold to him?

I'd like to hope not, but if it isn't true, why do I keep dreaming it? It seems so bloody fucking real and it terrifies me. The thing I see in my own eyes when I'm viewing everything from Adiv's eyes is the very thing I see in Cain Brooks. It's pure, unfettered evil. There's no mistaking it.

I walk into my kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cupboard. Carrying it in my hand, I gather a bottle of whiskey on my way to the living room. I sit down on the sofa, pour myself a drink, and knock it back as I flick on the television.

Alcohol is a lot easier to swallow than reminders of what I've lost. Of what happened because of my selfish actions.

RAVEN

It hasn't been long since the night things changed forever.

I'm not talking about Marco's death, nor am I speaking of Leo's. The memories of those are basically plankton in the ocean now—they're long forgotten, passed over by bigger and deadlier fish that are currently on our radar.

The night of Adiv's death was traumatic in many ways and for far too many people.

However, there are two people who aren't handling it well whatsoever—Dove and Luca.

Dove has proceeded to cry her eyes out since the day it happened. She refuses to see anyone, which includes me, but I've managed to talk to her in tiny sessions. She's lost the love of her life and the father of her child, so she's understandably broken.

I feel terrible about it. I want to help her so badly, but it can be difficult to help people in their grieving processes. Everyone grieves things differently and for different people. Dove's always been the type that prefers to deal with her feelings by herself. She wants to process and journal things about the loved one so that she doesn't forget.

And I completely understand that and support her in that. However, I don't want to just shut her away in her room. Especially not when all of this stress and heartbreak can't be good for the baby. I've tried desperately to urge her to let me in just so we can talk—hell, I've even suggested we mention nothing of it and simply watch a movie—but she's hellbent on doing it the way she wants.

My hands are tied when it comes to her. I've been texting her daily and swinging by her room to check up on her. She knows that whenever she's ready that I'll be here, but I think it's going to take a while longer.

Granted, I'm also positive that Uncle Cain won't let her wallow for much longer. He's still rather enraged over the whole thing and he's not done doling out his punishments yet, I can guarantee it.

Luckily—but also not so luckily, considering the circumstances that had to occur for it to happen—Cain has loosened his reins on me again. He's been distracted with Diablo Cardoso, distributing his heroin, and now with Dove, which means he's taken his sights off me a bit.

It doesn't mean I'm being more reckless. I'm still taking every precaution I did before, but it's still a nice thing to think about.

Ever since Adiv's death, I haven't spoken much to Luca. I know that Cain has forced him to swing by the mansion as if nothing has happened once or twice, but he seems to be keeping his distance.

It's entirely possible that everything that occurred has scared him away from me, but I don't care about that right now. It's selfish to even be thinking about shit like that when he's grieving the loss of his best friend.

Luca and I have texted a bit here and there, but I'm trying to give him his space. Unlike Dove, I don't know how he handles loss. I'm doing what I can to remind him that I'm here, but he hasn't taken me up on that offer.

The thing is, on the night of Adiv's murder, Cain sent Dove and I back to our rooms. We each had a guard posted outside our doors, preventing us from leaving, but I could still see out my windows.

Two of my windows on the one wall overlook the backyard.

I watched that night.

Observed as Luca struggled in the mud and rain to bury his best friend.

Clutched my chest in pain as he sobbed over the loss of Adiv.

I wanted so badly to run outside and help him. To take him in my arms and comfort him in a time that was traumatic for him. But I couldn't. If I would've taken a single step out of the house, Cain would've been killing another person that night.

The reminder of how it felt to watch him is a large part of why I'm here, currently knocking on his front door. I not only miss him, but I'm worried about him. I want to check in on him in person because text messages are easily misconstrued without body language.

When he opens the door, it knocks the air from my lungs. He's shirtless, wearing grey sweats that hang low enough I'm able to see the waistband of his boxer-briefs beneath them. He appears tired, but completely awake and I can instantly smell the stench of hard liquor.

He doesn't look like himself. He doesn't look like my Luca.

"Angel baby," he slurs, stumbling backwards as he opens the door further and allows me the space to enter.

I frown when I realize he's drunk at three in the morning by himself. Nonetheless, I step past him and into the house. As I do so, I see the discarded empty bottle of whiskey and the smoldering remnants of a joint in the ashtray on his coffee table.

It immediately tells me how he's handling the loss of his best friend.

My heart clenches in my chest, just as it did when I saw him on his hands and knees out by the unfinished pond as he cried over the body beneath him.

I turn to him and without saying anything, I envelop him in a hug. I tuck my face into the crook of his neck, wishing I could absorb some of the negative feelings that are surely eating him alive.

When we finally pull apart, my throat hurts because I'm on the edge of crying, but I shake it off, not wanting to upset him further. I pull him to his couch and finally greet him with, "How are you doing?"

He doesn't meet my eyes—staring at the television—as he shrugs his shoulders. "I've been better."

My eyes trail over him and I sigh when I notice that his knuckles on his right hand are covered in bruises and cuts. I grab the injured hand, spotting the dried blood on his skin. This isn't that old. "Luca, what happened?"

Again, he shrugs.

I don't know what to say or do. I came here with the intention of checking up on him and helping him. There's a large part of me that feels guilt for the things Cain does to people I care about.

I don't know if I should feel guilt, but I do. I'm related to the man and I wish that I could prevent him from doing heinous shit like what happened with Adiv.

I know that I can't. He's a man with his own thoughts, feelings, and actions. I can't control him.

I could end his reign of terror, but I can't go to him and talk him out of anything.

But there's this part, deep down inside of me that feels like if Luca hadn't met me—if he hadn't gotten involved with me—perhaps he wouldn't have had to experience this loss. Him and Adiv could've turned around and left if they hadn't gotten tangled this deep in the Brooks web.

I'm not even sure if that makes sense. Maybe I'm just trying to figure out a way that lessens everyone else's grief.

Is there anything I could even possibly say to Luca to aid him in this process? I don't know. I'm not sure any words could suffice for a loss of this magnitude for him. Just as they couldn't for Dove.

Adiv was far too great a man to simply be explained in words. This sorrow is absolutely warranted when a man of his stature is taken so suddenly.

I miss a lot of things about him too. He was always so friendly to me, offering me a smile and asking how I've been. He would often sneak chocolates to Dove and I and I'll miss it immensely. The echoes of the mansion halls won't be the same without his laughter.

Even worse, I'll miss the light he brought to Dove and Luca's lives. To everyone's life. It feels as though a piece of Dove and Luca died that day and it's a loss that will be felt for the remainder of their lives.

Luca and I sit in silence for several minutes. Since I'm not sure what to say to him and because he doesn't entirely seem like he's up for discussing, I simply sit beside him. With his hand in my lap, I gently stroke it as a reminder that I'm here as we watch whatever program he's been drinking and smoking too.

I happen to believe that even just the physical presence of someone else can help in moments like these. I hope it's something that aids him.

I watch mindlessly as a commercial for depression medication pops up featuring some sort of carnival theme. It shows a man, tossing knives at symptoms that this medication allegedly alleviates—insomnia, fatigue, appetite changes, irritability, difficulty concentrating, loss of interest in hobbies, hopelessness, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts or actions.

It then goes on to list about a million different potential side effects, including death.

After what feels like maybe twenty minutes, I sense something shift in the air. He adjusts beside me, almost as if he's antsy to say something, but I don't pressure him, staying quiet to allow him the safe space to open up if he feels like it.

"I feel like—like, I feel like it's partially my fault," is the first thing he stammers.

I'm naturally confused and a bit surprised he's actually ready to talk about it. "Why? Why would you say that?"

"'Cause I'm the reason Micro's dead."

I have to admit, I had my suspicions. The timing of the attack being so close to the wedding, plus the fact that Luca and I had only just discussed a plan on getting out of the marriage had me curious if he was involved.

Add to the fact that I thought Luca was acting a bit off that night. At first, I figured it was because he was in Marco's presence, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it.

"What do you mean?" I question.

He's always kept a tight lid on things, but I can see the haze that his drunken brain is creating right now. They say alcohol is like truth serum to some people and he's already shared far more with me than he would've if he wasn't drunk and stoned.

"I—"

"Please talk to me about it," I plead.

"I've already said too much."

"No, I want you to tell me, Luca."

"You only want me to tell you 'cause you think it'll fix shit inside me. That it'll heal me or something, but it won't. I'll always have this fuckin' darkness inside me, yeah?"

My chest swells with something almost too much to contain. "I don't want the darkness to disappear. I know it won't. The thing you're not seeming to understand is that I want it to be our darkness. Together."

After a moment, he finally relents. "I anon—" he stutters, his intoxicated tongue having a hard time forming the word, "—anonymously leaked to Marchetti that Marco was your bodyguard and told him where we'd be that night. I used you and Dove as bait to keep my hands clean. It's caused this chain reaction of events—from Marco's death rose Leo's death and now Adiv's gone. I can't help but feel like this originated with me. I'm partially responsible for his death and I don't know how to handle it."

I feel his words like the echo of a bullet wound in my chest.

I have to admit, it's a bit scary that he did that to Dove and I. Perhaps I should be pissed off at the idea that he could've gotten us killed, but I don't know, for some reason I can't.

When I look at him, I see a vulnerable man—aching and alone. The circles pronounced under his eyes, as if he's spent the last few days somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, unable to handle either by himself. The look makes my chest ache as if someone has punched through my ribcage and is squeezing my heart in their fist.

He carries more pain and guilt than I could ever imagine.

Cain has destroyed the man who first arrived and it gives me the urge to do the same to him.

Luca seems to believe he has no humanity left inside him. That he's some sort of monster, but I've never seen him in that way.

He's a man, desperate to keep everyone he loves safe. He's already beating the shit out of himself for the things he's done. I can see how much he's disgusted with his actions.

I think there's a part of me deep down that knew that Luca was responsible for Marco's end in some way. He flat out told me in the gym that he'd kill anyone who tried to take me away from him and I believed him when he said it.

"Adiv's death isn't your fault," I admit. "My uncle is a psychopath. His sins aren't yours to bear."

He seems to debate it for a moment, but I'm not sure he truly believes what I'm saying.

Absolutely no one—not even Dove—would blame Luca for what's happened to Adiv.

I think that, odds are, my uncle would've learned of Dove and Adiv at some point—just as he could learn of Luca and I at any moment—and he would've reacted the same way. Uncle Cain had beaten Dove's first boyfriend, admitted to removing the eyes of a man who leered at her, and the next man to involve himself with her happened to lose his life.

It has nothing to do with Dove. It has nothing to do with Luca. And really it has nothing to do with who Adiv was as a person.

It has everything to do with Uncle Cain's ego.

Sure, the fact that Leo is dead added to my uncle's fragility, but he was already unhinged to begin with. I wholeheartedly think that he would've killed Adiv after learning of the pregnancy whether Leo was alive or not.

"I can't stand the thought of losing you," he admits. "If Cain tries to send you away again, I'll burn the fuckin' world down to find you. You belong with me, Raven."

It's as though he's constantly comparing himself to the depraved things Cain has done. I think he continually forgets that I've grown up in this world. I've seen darkness my entire life and despite the things Luca's had to do to survive, he isn't dark. Not like Cain. Not like Leo. And not like Marco.

If Mariposa was ever taken from my uncle, he'd seek her out, but it wouldn't be for the same reasons. Luca was saving me because he cares for me and because he detests men that treat women as if they're strictly pawns on their chessboards they can control and strategically move as they need to. Cain would be saving Mariposa because the other families would talk if he didn't.

Put it this way—Luca's weakest link is those he cares about.

Cain's weakest link is his ego.

He's nothing like my uncle. My uncle has absolutely no remorse for the shit he's done. The fact that Luca's this torn up about what's he's done, proves he's not like Cain. Cain would never have this type of guilt-ridden reaction.

"I've been petrified to tell you this shit. I don't want you to see me the way I see myself." His voice is merely a whisper and it breaks my heart.

I reach out, touching his hand. Lacing our fingers together as a sign that whatever evil thoughts are swirling in his head, they won't change my opinion of him. I'm not going anywhere.

Not anywhere where he isn't.

"I see you as who you are, Luca—kind, generous, selfless, brave, intelligent, funny, loving," I breathe deeply, feeling a flurry of emotions crash over me.

"The loss I felt when I lost Adiv—" Luca pauses mid-sentence and I know it's because the words are difficult for him to get out. "Adiv once asked about you and me. He asked if I loved you and I lied to him. I told him I didn't." His gaze flickers up to mine and I know what he's about to say before he says it, "I love you."

His admission knocks the air from my lungs.

"Adiv's passing made me realize that if I lost you, I'd feel the same sense of loss and it finally occurred to me that I'm in love with you. No person on earth will ever come close to feeling what I feel for you, Raven."

No matter how hard I've tried to ignore my feelings for him, I can't do it anymore. Not when he's pouring his heart and soul out to me and opening up to show me who he truly is. At this point, he's become a tenant in my heart that I don't want to remove.

"I'm in love with you, too," I admit and with the words finally out there, it feels as though my love for him becomes too big for my chest to contain.

He closes the distance between us to unite our mouths as a final declaration of what we've just admitted. I can taste the pain and guilt on his lips from his earlier confessions and I want nothing more than to kiss it all away. I wish I could.

Luca and I have become one in the months since meeting. Nothing can change that fact. Nothing will be able to split us back into two. Absolutely nothing.

When we pull apart, Luca cups my face in his hand, breaking eye contact for a moment, as he inquires, "Everything I've just said to you—it doesn't make you look at me differently?"

I shake my head. "Not at all."

"You never told Dove about you and I."

I shake my head again, "I told you that you're safe with me. Your thoughts, your plans—everything about you is safe with me."

I almost remind him that he initially never spoke of him and I to Adiv either, but I decide now isn't the best time to bring him up. They'd only just gotten over that disagreement before that night. Reminders of it can't be good.

He seems to ponder what I've said, as if this is the first time he's perhaps truly believing and considering it. Eventually, he tells me, "Money and power are terrifying things, Moonlight. I want to take down your uncle. To dismantle his mafia, but I don't want this life in the long run." His eyes meet mine, "I don't want it for you, for me, or for Dove and her future child."

"Do you want to kill him?"

"Your uncle?"

I nod.

"Yes," he admits.

I worry about what Dove would think—I honestly think that even despite the loss of Adiv and her brother to this life, she still wouldn't wish death upon her father—but I'm with Luca. I'm not sure there's any other way to make Cain stop. Even if we ran right now, I think he'd seek us out just to make us pay for thinking we could get out from under his control.

"Does that scare you?"

With all honesty, I answer, "No."

In fact, I've had the very thought myself.

"Do you know when?" I can't help my curiosity, I have to ask the question. Although, now's probably not the best time to ask because he's still clearly drunk and high.

"Not right away. I'll have to give it some time. I worry he doesn't trust me after the way he treated me that night. I need to make sure he does. It's the only way I'll be able to get close enough to do something." He rubs the tips of his fingers along the stubble on his jawline. "But maybe we'll chat about this later—when I'm not like this. You need to be getting home, yeah, baby?"

He's right. We can talk about this later when both of our heads are screwed on right. There are too many emotions swirling right now to make smart choices.

"I don't feel safe leaving you alone when you're like this," I admit.

"Cain—" he tries to defend, but I think he's still too intoxicated to truly offer anything meaningful.

"It'll be fine," I assure him. "I promise. He's too busy trying to find Diablo." As I speak, I intertwine our fingers together to lead him to his bedroom. I help him out of his sweats so he can sleep in his boxer-briefs and grab him a glass of water, which I urge him to drink.

I steal one of his shirts to wear, quickly slipping it on as he watches from under the covers. Before joining him, I flick the light off, frowning when I spot the hole he must've punched in the drywall at some point.

That's what happened to his hand.

Crawling in beside him, I find a sense of peace that I hope he feels too.

I'm not afraid of what life could possibly throw at me. At us. I already know it's inevitable that more will come. I'm far more afraid of having to possibly face it without him at my side.