The penthouse felt heavier than usual in the hours following Luca’s rescue. Aria sat in the private medical wing, watching the monitors beep steadily beside her brother’s bed. Luca was stable but exhausted, his face still bruised from the ordeal. The sight of him — the one person who had shared her struggles in poverty and desperation — filled her with a fierce protectiveness that pushed aside her own pain from the graze wound on her side.
“You’re safe now,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “We’re all fighting for this family.”
Dante stood in the doorway, his powerful frame a silent guardian. His gray eyes never left her, filled with a mix of pride and deep concern. “You should be resting too,” he said softly, crossing the room to stand behind her. His large hands settled on her should
