Page 67 of The Scars We Keep
One side of his mouth curves into a cruel smile.
“Still sharp as ever,” he says.
“Still unpleasant as ever.”
For a moment, neither of us moves.
Luca keeps his eyes on mine, and I keep mine on his because in this family, looking away first has always meant losing.Then he shifts forward another inch, crowding me on purpose.It’s a small move, yet it says everything.Pressure.Dominance.A reminder.
His shadow falls over me, dark against the storm-lit room, and I can almost hear my father’s voice in the silence.I lift my chin and hold Luca’s gaze without blinking.
“He’s here,” I say, the lie leaving my mouth as smooth as silk.
It’s a necessary lie.If Luca knows Lorenzo is gone, he will push harder.He will test every boundary in this room.He has always been at his cruelest when he thinks there will be no consequences, and I didn’t survive being born a Serrano by being stupid enough to hand a man like him an open door.
So I lie.And I do it well.
Luca studies me for a beat too long, and I know he is trying to decide whether I am bluffing or whether Lorenzo is somewhere in the house.
“What do you want, Luca?”
He studies me for a moment.
“We want information,” he says, lowering his tone.“We want to know what your husband is doing.”
I clasp my arms tighter over my chest.“As I told our father, I don’t know anything.”
Luca tilts his head.“Do you expect Father or me to buy that shit?”
“I don’t particularly care whether you believe it or not.”
His smile sharpens.“You live in this house, so you hear things.”
I say nothing.
Luca watches me too closely.“You’re not that stupid.Father agreed to this marriage for this kind of leverage.”
I lift my chin and let the bitterness rise, clean and sharp, through my throat.
“No.I was traded for a reason.Our father wanted his name associated with De Luca blood.”
Luca’s expression doesn’t change.If anything, it hardens, every cruel line of his face settling into place with an ugly familiarity.
“Then be useful,” he says.
A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it.
“Useful,” I repeat.“God, that’s all any of you ever want from me.”
I look him dead in the eye and give him the same answer I gave our father, only this time more slowly.“As I said to father, I don’t know anything.”
The room seems to pause around us.
The walls pull tighter.
Rain lashes the windows hard enough to shake the glass, but it fades behind the pulse beating in my ears.
Luca is staring at me with that cold, measuring look, and for half a second I think he will hurl another insult.Maybe he will lean in with one of those quiet threats men like him prefer, because they land deeper than shouting ever could.
