Page 59 of Lucky

Lucky reaches out, his hand covering mine. It’s a small gesture, but it anchors me, pulls me back from the brink.

“You’re safe now,” he says, his voice steady.

I nod, but the fury inside me doesn’t abate. “Safe,” I repeat, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. “But not whole. Not after this.”

Lucky’s grip tightens as the promise of vengeance hangs heavy in the air.

I look at him, at the determination in his eyes, and for the first time since my escape, I feel a flicker of something other than grief or rage. Hope.

But it’s fleeting. The memories, the pain, the fury—they’re all still there, simmering just beneath the surface. And I know that until I confront them head-on, they’ll continue to consume me.

“I need to be a part of this,” I say, my voice firm despite the tremor in my hands.

Lucky hesitates, but he sees the resolve in my eyes and nods. “You’ve probably got information about Russo that we’ll need.”

The weight in my chest shifts, just slightly. There’s still a long road ahead, but I’m not walking it alone. And for now, that’s enough.

30

LUCKY

Ilead Jacklyn through the sprawling corridors of Scar’s home, my pace steady, my silence palpable. Jacklyn hugs her arms around herself as she walks beside me, looking small but curious, her gaze darting to the occasional ornate mirror or glimmering chandelier. It’s a world she’s accustomed to, but she seems overwhelmed nonetheless.

“It’s just down this way,” I say, just so I can break the quiet. I glance back at her briefly, my expression unreadable. I’m a man who’s composed most of the time, but right now, there’s a tension residing in my shoulders that betrays me.

Jacklyn nods, not trusting herself to speak. I am hyper-aware of her presence, the way her small frame seems to dance against the marble floors. She’s barefoot and ragged, her clothes a twist of fabric that has seen better days after her run through the wild. But despite all that, despite the cuts and bruises and the dirt caking her face, I cannot deny the pull I feel toward her. In this moment, she’s vulnerable yet strong, lost but found. If she were a different person, if it was anyone else, I know she wouldn’t have made it out of those woods alive. Hell, she probablywouldn’t have managed to get away from her captors in the first place.

Finally, we stop at a door near the end of the hall. I open it, stepping aside to let her enter first. A magnetic charge courses through me as she steps past me and walks into the room, as though the mere air surrounding her is pervasive in the space between us.

“This is your room,” I say simply, shaking off the zap of electricity that surges. “Allegra has organised some clothes and toiletries for you in the closet and the ensuite.” I point toward the bathroom, and her eyes flick that way, then come back to meet mine. I can see there’s something on her mind.

“Who lives here?” she asks, and I know she’s referring to the expansive floorplan of Scar’s home. It’s a palace fit for an entire village.

“My brother Scar and his wife Allegra. They have a daughter, Scarlett. Minimal staff.”

She nods her head in understanding and swallows back a lump that forms in her throat.

“I live in my own house a few hundred feet away. We all live here, but in our own homes.”

“You all live here?” Her eyebrows lift in surprise; the concept seems foreign to her.

“We do. We knocked down our childhood home and decided to build close to each other.”

She nods again and her eyes move around the room. The space is warm and inviting, with soft lighting and a large bed covered in a deep burgundy comforter. A plush armchair sits by the window, which overlooks the vast gardens outside. She walks toward it, standing near the window. I know that she’ll be able to see my house from the balcony.

Jacklyn hesitates, then brushes her fingers against the velvet of the armchair. “It’s beautiful,” she murmurs, glancing at me.

“Scar’s wife… Allegra… she’s got a knack for this kind of thing,” I tell her, scratching the back of my neck. There it is again—that flicker of vulnerability peeking through my stoic exterior.

An awkward silence settles between us, the air thick with unsaid words. The sound of hurried footsteps and the faint jingle of bracelets saves us. Allegra bursts into the room, her dark curls bouncing and her eyes bright with warmth.

“Jacklyn! Welcome!” she exclaims, her voice too enthusiastic for my exhausted brain. Honestly, I love my sister in law to death, but she’s a ball of energy none of us can tame.

Jacklyn turns, taken aback but smiling despite herself. “You must be Allegra,” she says.

“Guilty,” Allegra replies with a grin, stepping forward and pulling Jacklyn into a quick, friendly hug. “I’m so glad you’re here. And I mean that sincerely. Any friend of Luca’s is family here.”

“Luca?”