Page 44 of Ruthless Silence
He's at the door now, hand on the handle, but turns back with that wrong smile.
"She's going to destroy you, brother." Not a threat. An observation. "Or you'll destroy each other. That's what love does in this family."
To Ana: "You remind me of someone."
"Who?" she asks, though I can see she doesn't really want to know.
That terrible smile widens. "Someone who made me what I am."
Then he's gone, leaving silence that feels heavier than his presence. Ana and I stare at each other across the room, both processing what just happened.
"Is he always…?" she starts to sign, then stops, not sure how to finish.
I nod. Always dangerous. Always wrong. Always my brother.
"Stay away from him," I sign, moving closer to the couch now that he's gone.
"You think he'd hurt me?"
I consider how to answer. Luca doesn't just hurt people. He unmakes them, finds the thing that makes them whole and removes it. Physical pain is pedestrian to him. He prefers the kind of damage that never heals.
"I think he'd try," I sign finally. "For fun. To see what you look like broken."
She processes this, and I see something shift in her eyes. She's recognizing the danger that lives within these walls, understanding that the threat isn't always external. Sometimes it shares your blood.
"You're afraid," she says softly. "Not of him. Of what he might do to me."
I nod, moving to sit on the coffee table in front of the couch. Close enough to touch but not touching. The medication makes her eyes soft, but I see the sharpness underneath. My warrior processing new intelligence.
"He knows," she signs carefully. "About us. About the desk."
Heat flares in my chest, remembering. Her spread across mahogany, contracts ruined beneath her, my name on her lips as she came. The memory makes my cock stir, even now, even with Luca's shadow still in the room.
"He knows too much," I agree.
Ana shifts on the couch, wincing as the movement pulls at her injury. Without thinking, I reach out, hand hovering over her bandaged arm. She doesn't pull away, so I let my fingers ghost over the bandage, not quite touching.
"I killed for you," she says quietly. "He's right about that being intimate."
My eyes find hers. She killed for me. Saved me from the shooter I didn't see. The possessive beast in my chest purrs at the memory. My woman, my warrior, mine.
"More intimate than fucking?" I sign, echoing Luca's words.
Color floods her cheeks, and fuck if that blush doesn't make me want to spread her out right here, injured or not. Show her exactly how intimate we can be. But she needs to heal. Needs to be whole before I take her again.
"Different," she signs back. "Both were… choices."
Choices. She chose to kill for me. Chose to spread her legs for me. Chose me, even if she hasn't admitted it yet.
I lean closer, unable to resist. Her breath catches as I press my forehead to hers, careful not to jostle her injured arm. We stay like that, sharing breath, the moment heavy with everything we're not saying.
"He scared me," she admits against my mouth. "Not like the others. Different. Wrong."
"Good," I sign against her cheek. "Fear keeps you alive with Luca."
She pulls back slightly to look at me. "You'd protect me? Even from your own brother?"
"From anyone," I sign, and mean it. "Anyone who threatens what's mine."
