The city had grown quieter by the time Adrien slipped back into the streets. Midnight had deepened into something heavier, darker. Rain had returned in a fine drizzle, turning the asphalt into mirrors that reflected the glow of neon. Adrien's coat was pulled tight, collar high, concealing more than just his face—tonight, he concealed a plan he had barely allowed himself to form.
Le Rêve was open. The faint glow of amber lights spilled into the mist, beckoning him like a lure he could no longer resist. Inside, Luka was there, strumming gently on the guitar as though nothing in the world existed but the strings and the notes.
Adrien's pulse quickened. He had thought about nothing else all day, had replayed the memory of Luka's hands, the tilt of his head, the quiet strength in his calm gaze. And now, standing outside the door, Adrien realized he had made a decision he would not back down from.
He pushed the door open. The bell above jingled softly. Luka looked up immediately, blue-gray eyes sharp, alert, and… cautious. Adrien didn't speak. He stepped inside, minions trailing behind in the shadows, silent and ready.
"You're back," Luka said, voice calm, measured. "I—did you come back just to… watch me play?"
Adrien's jaw tightened. Watching was not enough. Never enough. "I didn't come back to watch," he said, low and dangerous. "I came back to take you with me."
Luka froze, the guitar hovering in his hands. "Take me… what?"
Adrien stepped closer. There was a magnetism in his presence, in the controlled power of his body, the low hum of authority that surrounded him. Luka set the guitar down slowly, fingers brushing the wood like it was a shield.
"You heard me," Adrien said. "You're coming with me."
"No," Luka said firmly, voice steady, calm, but unyielding. "I'm not going anywhere."
Adrien's eyes narrowed. Few people refused him outright. Fewer still did it without fear. Luka did, with nothing but an unshakable calm that irritated and intrigued him all at once.
Adrien's hands flexed at his sides. "You don't understand. I need you."
Luka's lips pressed into a thin line. "You need me? You mean my music?"
Adrien hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. My mind… it doesn't rest. Your music… it fixes that. You fix that. And I will not—cannot—wait another night."
Luka shook his head slowly. "That's… insane."
Adrien didn't answer. He didn't have to. Instead, his minions moved, blocking the doors and subtly surrounding the small bar. A subtle pressure, a warning, a demonstration of control without a word.
Luka's eyes flicked to them, then back to Adrien. "You can't… you can't just—"
"I can, and I will," Adrien interrupted. His voice was smooth, soft, deadly. "You're coming with me. Now."
The tension between them was a physical thing, heavy in the air. Luka's calm did not waver, but his body tightened, coiled like a spring. He was not afraid, not really, but he was protective of something far more important than himself.
"I'm not coming unless you—unless you promise…" Luka's voice softened, almost a whisper, but there was steel beneath it. "Unless you promise I can take my son with me."
Adrien froze.
His instincts screamed caution. His mind raced through possibilities, threats, contingencies. He had not expected this, had not considered it. But the moment… the raw honesty in Luka's voice… it was disarming.
"You have a child?" Adrien asked, tone clipped, careful, masking the surge of curiosity and intrigue inside him.
"Yes," Luka said, firm, unwavering. "A little boy. Calm. Sweet. He's all I have."
Adrien's pulse skipped, though his face betrayed nothing. He had always thought of children as… fragile. Complications. Weakness. And yet here was Luka, not bending, not faltering, holding the weight of something Adrien could not touch with money, power, or fear.
"I will not… I will not take him," Adrien said finally. Voice low, almost rough with something unspoken. "Your child stays safe."
Luka's gaze softened slightly, and yet the tension remained. "Then we have a deal. I come… but my son comes too."
Adrien considered this, calculating. He could make it work. It would complicate things, certainly, but it would not be impossible. And the thought of Luka in his control, calm and resistant, music and all… irresistible.
"Fine," Adrien said finally. "You and your son. You both come with me. But…" His eyes darkened, narrowing slightly. "…if anything happens to either of you under my roof, it will be the last mistake I ever make."
Luka's lips pressed together, holding back words. He knew the weight behind that promise. He nodded once. "Then let's go."
The tension broke slightly as Adrien's minions subtly guided Luka and his belongings out of the bar. Luka's guitar remained in his hands, clutched like a lifeline. Adrien walked beside him, silent, measuring.
"Where… are you taking us?" Luka asked finally, trying to mask the tremor in his voice. He was calm, yes, but protective instincts flared.
Adrien glanced at him, expression unreadable. "Somewhere safe," he said simply. "And somewhere where you can play your music. And… I can sleep."
Luka raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Sleep?"
Adrien didn't answer immediately. Instead, he walked in silence, letting the city streets blur past them. The rain had stopped again, leaving the night cool and damp. Luka's small, steady breaths were the only rhythm beside his own.
"You're… unusual," Luka said finally, his voice soft but pointed. "Mafia boss, feared by everyone, and yet… you just… took me. Why?"
Adrien's lips pressed into a thin line. He wanted to lie, to deflect, to use his usual charm and menace. But the truth… the uncomfortable, uncharacteristic truth… rose to the surface.
"Because I need something I can't buy, can't command, can't force," he said, voice low, almost rough with emotion. "Something that… calms me. Something you have."
Luka looked at him, studying him, the guitar resting lightly in his hands. "You're… insane," he said softly, almost a whisper.
"And yet," Adrien replied, "I'm not wrong."
The ride to his safehouse was silent, save for the soft hum of tires on wet asphalt. Luka didn't protest, didn't argue further. He simply held his guitar, held himself steady, and prepared. Adrien's presence was overwhelming, imposing—but not entirely hostile. There was a strange calm underneath, an odd promise that the boy's safety, his music, and even Luka's own autonomy would be… preserved, somehow.
When they arrived, Adrien opened the door without ceremony. The safehouse was sleek, controlled, imposing—exactly as one would expect from a man of his position. Yet there were touches of comfort: a grand piano in the corner, bookshelves with leather-bound volumes, and a small, curated collection of musical instruments.
Luka's eyes flicked around, cautious, evaluating. He set the guitar down carefully. "This… isn't terrible," he said, voice measured, eyes not leaving Adrien.
Adrien's expression softened slightly. "You'll have space. Music. Calm."
Luka's gaze fell. "And… my son?"
Adrien's jaw tightened. "Safe," he repeated. "He will be safe. I swear it. But you… stay with me. He stays. That's the deal."
Luka nodded slowly. He didn't like it. He didn't trust it. But he had no choice. His music, his son, and this strange, magnetic man—they were entwined now.
And Adrien… Adrien was already thinking about the next steps. How to keep Luka close, how to protect him, how to ensure that the music—and the man who played it—would never leave his orbit again.
The night stretched on, and for the first time in years, Adrien felt something dangerous, intoxicating, and entirely new: anticipation.
Because this was not just a kidnapping. This was the beginning.