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Giovanni’s brow creased. “You said you came to tell me something.”
Luka swallowed. The bite of pastry caught in his throat. “Safe house. My fault.”
“Oh.” Giovanni’s face blanked. “Then you know the woman?”
Luka shrugged. There was very little he knew about Alina. Like the fact that she remained at the safe house. He wished he understood why.
“I know you have your rules. Rules Ivankov continues to try to get you to break.” Giovanni studied his face.
The image of Alina huddled into herself, bruised and bleeding and naked, rose in Luka’s mind. “She would have burned.”
Giovanni said nothing. When Luka had first encountered him as a boy, he’d thought he was beautiful. Pale skin and pale hair and the most defined face. It had been easy to picture the boy with the wings his mother used to talk about angels having, so he’d cut him, over and over, proving that he could bleed. He’d cut him to make him like all the other men Luka had already killed at barely twelve years old.
Only Giovanni hadn’t been like the others. His face had been carved in stone, unmoving as he endured the first dozen cuts. Luka had always wanted to be exactly like that, and so he’d faltered. Then the other boy had begun to fight back, and he’d let him, a strange, new emotion filling him. One he wanted to learn more about.
Ivankov had once accused him of being in love with Giovanni. Luka didn’t think he was capable of an emotion like that, but he figured what he felt was close enough. It was much more than what he’d felt for Willow. The love he’d once had for his sister had become an obligation.
Luka’s hatred for himself had only grown when she was also punished because he’d let Giovanni live.
“My offer to use any of our safe houses stands,” Giovanni said. “I’ll make sure the men leave that location alone for now.”
Luka nodded.
The Di Salvo boss tilted his head, hesitating. Giovanni struggled as much as Luka often did in finding the right words. “I have a lot of opposition at the moment,” he finally said, “but when things settle, I’ll be in a position to help you with your goal.”
Luka froze. His thoughts whirled, but he couldn’t even blink as he stared into eyes as cold as he wished he could be.
“I don’t think you understand how much I owe you,” Giovanni murmured.
Luka shook his head. Words were so hard. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then forced his lips to part. “I wasn’t there.”
Giovanni’s brows drew together. “When? With my father?”
Luka nodded. He’d promised to help Giovanni kill him. The former Di Salvo boss hadn’t been exactly like Ivankov, but he’d also been a monster.
“It doesn’t matter. You let me live once. I’ll always be grateful.”
Luka didn’t bother denying it. Giovanni had always felt that way, even if Luka hadn’t done it for him. He’d done it to return a little piece of himself.
“Your face is bruised, Luka. I don’t often see it that way.” There wasn’t a question in Giovanni’s words, only a grim acknowledgement.
“I’m fine,” Luka managed to say. His fever had broken, and though his back ached, he could ignore the pain. Ivankov had barely reacted during his recent report, even though he was late, and had issued other orders that had kept him occupied.
That wasn’t really the reason he hadn’t checked in on the safe house again. He’d wanted to too much, which was foolish.
Luka pushed off the wall, forcing himself to finish the crumbled pastry in a couple of bites.
Giovanni’s voice chased him to the door. “The safe house. It’s yours as long as you need.”
Luka nodded. He slipped away from the Di Salvo estate easily enough. When he arrived at the safe house, the sun had hidden behind a string of clouds, but it was still morning. Alina wasn’t inside.
She’d been there, though. Luka stood for a long time in front of the wall she’d made her own. Pencil marked up what had once been a blank white. The gray of the lead shaded in a face that was all too familiar.
Her drawings looked nothing like him. His expression had never been that innocent and free. Even she must not have felt she’d done him justice. There were more than a few. Over and over, she had tried to capture him.
Luka forced himself to turn away. Maybe she’d finally gone, but the door was left unlocked, like she meant to return. It was the opposite of safe. He should have left her the key.
Luka decided to search nearby. He hadn’t gone far when something drew his attention to the window of a diner. Inside he watched Alina turn with a plate of food, smiling at the large, bearded man she set it in front of.
