Page 2 of Lucian

See what?

Luciano couldn’t hold the man’s gaze any longer. It turned from seeking, to sadness and pity. “Please, sir, if I promise not to come back here, would you let me go?”

“No.”

“W-what? Why?”

“I knew your father, child. He was my very best friend. He would be sorely disappointed in me if I let you continue on like this.”

Luciano forced himself to swallow the bad taste in his mouth. “My father?”

“My name is Antony. I was, like your father was, a caporegime. I am the boss, now. The boss, child. Do you understand what that means?”

Faint memories bubbled up to the surface. Words from men Luciano didn’t understand well enough, though he knew his father was one of them. La Cosa Nostra. The family. His mother, a goomah for his father.

Antony was speaking again, bringing the boy from his thoughts. “I knew of your mother, but I didn’t know about you until after. And for that, I am so sorry.”

“Momma?” Luciano managed to ask.

Antony gave a single nod in response, smiling tightly. “Would you like to sleep in a bed tonight, Luciano?”

“I …” Could he trust this Antony?

“I have two little boys of my own,” Antony continued, his tone growing softer. “Dante and Giovanni. Dante just turned eight. Gio is six, going on seven. I bet they would love to meet you, and have someone new to play with.”

“She told me to hide,” Luciano said quietly, needing the man to understand. “I shouldn’t.”

“You don’t have to hide anymore, okay? I made the men who hurt your madre and your padre go away. I am boss, remember?”

“Boss,” Luciano echoed.

“A bed?” Antony asked once more.

“Please.”

Antony’s smile grew to a brilliant grin. Then, two men slipped into the mouth of the alley, shadowing the bit of light the street afforded. One held a blanket, while the other simply stood silent and stoic with his arms crossed. With a snap of Antony’s fingers, the man with the blanket came further in and handled the article over. Antony used it to cover Luciano without a word.

“Want me to take him, Boss?”

“No,” Antony said firmly, barely glancing at the other man. “He will be raised as my son, now. I will take him.”

My son.

Before Luciano could say a word, he found himself picked up by Antony as if he didn’t weigh a thing. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around the man’s neck and his legs around his waist. Antony let out a shaky breath in response, but said nothing about the smell lingering on the boy, or the dirtiness staining his pristine suit.

“From now on, we will call you Lucian. Lucian Marcello. Do you understand?”

Luciano nodded. “Sì.”

“Let’s go home, Lucian. My wife has waited a long time to meet you.”

• • •

Lucian awoke with a jolt. Sweat slicked up his skin, leaving beads of perspiration dotting across his naked chest. For a brief moment, he struggled to adjust his eyes to the dark room, but it didn’t take long for him to remember where he was, or for the familiar space to seep comfort into his suddenly aching muscles with their old memories.

It wasn’t often he dreamed of that night in Brooklyn, not anymore. Sometimes it would creep into his mind and it wouldn’t let go. The memory itself wasn’t a nightmare. Antony taking him off the streets, giving him a home, brothers, a mother and a father, had been the very best thing for Lucian. It was everything else surrounding that night, the things that came before … those were the nightmares, now.

Lucian released a heavy breath, raking his fingers through his hair as he sat up in his old bed. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t come up with a good reason for why he was dreaming of that night. It wasn’t like his biological parents were on his mind lately.