The Devil's Absence
The mansion felt wrong without him.
Elena knew it the second the convoy returned from the docks, broken and bloodied, but without Lucian at its head. Men staggered inside, their clothes soaked in blood, their faces twisted with exhaustion and defeat. The air smelled of smoke and iron, a stench that clung to her skin.
She ran down the marble stairs, her heart hammering, Isabella clinging to her hand.
"Where's Lucian?" Elena demanded, her voice cutting through the chaos.
Silence fell. Soldiers avoided her gaze, their boots dragging across the floor, until Alessandro finally stepped forward, his eyes dark with shame.
"Elena…" He hesitated, glancing at the child by her side. His throat bobbed as he forced the words out. "They took him."
Her stomach dropped. "No. No, that's not possible. Lucian doesn't get taken."
Alessandro's voice broke. "Dante set a trap. We fought, but… he didn't make it out."
Isabella whimpered, pressing her face into Elena's hip. Elena's hand flew to her mouth as nausea rolled through her. The room spun.
For the first time since she had met Lucian Moretti, the Devil had fallen.
---
The night was restless. The mansion, usually a fortress under Lucian's command, was fractured. Orders flew back and forth, but the men were leaderless, their confidence shattered.
Elena sat in Isabella's room, rocking her daughter to sleep. The little girl clung to her tightly, her small body trembling.
"Is Papa coming back?" Isabella whispered, her voice muffled against Elena's chest.
Elena's throat tightened. She stroked her daughter's hair, forcing her voice not to break. "Yes, baby. He's coming back. I promise."
But in her heart, doubt gnawed like a relentless parasite.
Once Isabella finally drifted into restless sleep, Elena slipped away, her mind ablaze with fear. She found Alessandro in the study, maps and weapons scattered across the desk.
"You're organizing a rescue, aren't you?" she demanded.
Alessandro looked up sharply, the lines of exhaustion etched deep into his face. "We don't even know where he is. Dante's men vanished after the docks. They could have taken him anywhere."
"That's not good enough!" Elena slammed her hands on the table. "Lucian is out there, and every second you sit here debating, Dante gets closer to breaking him."
Alessandro's jaw tightened. "You think I don't know that? But going in blind will only get more of us killed."
Elena leaned forward, her eyes burning. "Then let me help. Lucian once told me: Dante never does anything without a message. If he took Lucian alive, it's because he wants me to know."
Alessandro hesitated.
"Search the channels, the whispers, anything Dante might send," Elena pressed. "He'll gloat. That's what men like him do. And when he does—we strike."
Alessandro finally nodded, though worry flickered in his eyes.
"Elena… if we don't get him back, the family will collapse. You understand that, don't you?"
Her breath hitched, but she lifted her chin. "Then we don't fail."
---
Hours stretched into days. Each one heavier than the last.
Rumors trickled in—sightings of Dante's cars near abandoned warehouses, whispers of screams in the night. Elena's nerves frayed with every passing hour. She barely slept, barely ate.
One evening, as storm clouds gathered over the city, a package arrived at the mansion gates. No note, no courier—just a black box.
Alessandro carried it inside cautiously, placing it on the table while guards circled.
Elena's hands shook as she opened it.
Inside was a single object.
Lucian's ring.
Blood still smeared the gold band.
Elena's breath caught. Her knees buckled, and she gripped the edge of the table to steady herself. Tears blurred her vision.
Alessandro cursed under his breath. "He's toying with us."
Elena clutched the ring to her chest, her heart splintering. But amid the grief, something else ignited—fury.
"He wants me scared," she whispered. "He wants me to break. But he doesn't understand—Lucian is my fire. And I'll burn down everything Dante owns to get him back."
---
That night, Elena went to the panic room, the same steel sanctuary where she had once sheltered with Isabella. She stood in the darkness, staring at her reflection in the mirrored wall.
Her hair was tangled, her eyes hollow, her hands trembling. But beneath the exhaustion, a steely resolve glimmered.
"Lucian," she whispered into the silence. "I'm coming for you."
She pulled open the hidden drawer in the wall, revealing a pistol Lucian had stashed for emergencies. Her fingers curled around the cold steel. The weight of it grounded her.
Elena had never killed a man. But for Lucian—for the father of her child, the man who had bled and burned for her—she would learn.
---
Alessandro found her later, loading bullets into the weapon.
"You shouldn't be doing this," he muttered.
Elena looked up at him, her eyes fierce. "If you won't help me, I'll go alone."
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "You're insane."
"No," Elena said softly. "I'm in love."
Alessandro studied her for a long moment before shaking his head. "God help us all." He set a folder down on the table. "We traced the car that delivered the package. It led to the east docks—an abandoned shipyard. It's Dante's territory."
Elena's breath quickened. "Then that's where Lucian is."
Alessandro met her gaze, grim and unwavering. "If we go in, there's no turning back. Dante will expect us. It'll be a slaughter."
Elena slid the gun into her waistband, her voice steady. "Then we'll slaughter him first."
---
Later that night, Elena stood on the balcony outside Lucian's room, the city lights glowing like scattered stars below. She could almost feel him beside her—the heat of his body, the strength of his presence.
Her hand curled around his ring, still warm from where she'd held it against her heart.
"Hold on, Lucian," she whispered into the night. "I'm coming."
The wind howled, carrying her vow into the darkness.
Far away, in a hidden chamber lit by flickering lamps, Lucian Moretti raised his head from where he'd been beaten bloody, his body chained but his spirit unbroken.
And though he didn't know why, a fire sparked inside him at that very moment.
As if Elena's soul had reached across the night to whisper: You are not alone.