Page 6 of His to Destroy

But I know it isn’t over.

Not even close.

Later that night, I stand by Luca’s bed and watch him sleep. The moonlight paints his face in silver. He stirs and mumbles something about dragons and knights. I brush the hair from his forehead.

I should run again. Disappear.

But something keeps me frozen.

Maybe it’s the tiredness. The weight of eight years spent running.

Maybe it’s the photo in my hand.

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the memory of Gaspare’s eyes—not accusing, not cruel—but filled with something like guilt.

I don’t forgive him. I don’t trust him.

I shouldn’t.

But if danger is already here, then I need to be smarter than I was before.

I need to be ruthless.

I have more to lose now than ever before.

And that might mean letting a devil through the door—if only to keep worse ones out.

Chapter 2 – Gaspare

She’s alive.

I’m still reeling.

There she stood, no more than a few feet from me, in a shop that smelled like lavender and dust. Time warped around her. Everything else—the flowers, the flickering sunlight, the murmur of traffic outside—faded into static. My brain couldn't catch up to what my eyes had confirmed.

Almeria is alive.

Not a dream. Not a ghost. Not some conjuring of my guilt. Real. Breathing. Changed, but unmistakably her.

I’d buried the possibility of ever seeing her again long ago. And yet, there she was.

Hair darker than I remembered, pulled into a soft twist at the base of her neck. Her body, slender but taut with tension, like a bowstring drawn too tight. Her voice was calm, smooth—but beneath it, I heard the blade. A warning. A threat. A defense mechanism forged by years of surviving something far worse than my betrayal.

And her eyes—they’re what haunt me now.

Not wide with youthful wonder, not flirty or playful like they used to be when she caught me watching her from across a courtyard or a party. No, these eyes were colder. Deeper. Eyes that had seen things no one should.

She didn’t want me there.

She looked at me like I was the worst mistake she ever made. And maybe I was.

Back in my car, I grip the wheel too tight. My jaw aches from clenching. My men say nothing, bless their self-preservation. Lorenzo sits in the back, reading me better than anyone else could.

“You okay, boss?”

A long silence.

“I found her.”

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