Chapter 67: A Name He’d Never Spoken

Chapter 67: A Name He’d Never Spoken

Corsica had always been their contingency—Evangeline’s last safehouse, a coastal retreat so nondescript it barely had electricity. The two-bedroom villa sat on a cliffside ridge, hidden among Mediterranean pines and surrounded by the wild blue stretch of sea that seemed to swallow time.

But today, it held the world’s most dangerous secret.

And Luca stood at its door.

He hadn’t known what to expect on the flight over. He’d barely spoken to Evangeline after she gave him the address and a whisper: “He doesn’t know your face, Luca. But he knows your name.”

Now he was standing before it—before him. And for the first time in a long time, Luca De Rossi felt something close to terror.

The door opened slowly. A woman in her late fifties with steel-gray hair and warm brown eyes greeted him. She didn’t smile.

“You’re late,” she said flatly.

“I had to be careful,” Luca replied. “Did anyone follow you?”

“No. But they will soon.”

He nodded. “Where is he?”

The woman stepped aside. “Napping. But he’ll wake soon.”

Luca entered.

The villa was quiet, modest, filled with simple, child-proofed furniture and an air of domestic warmth he hadn’t felt since his own mother was alive. There were no signs of luxury—no tailored suits, no portraits of family lineage. Only a drawing taped to the fridge.

A lion holding a balloon.

Luca stared at it longer than he should have.

“He draws like her,” he murmured.

“Yes,” the woman—Angela—replied. “He has her imagination.”

They sat in the modest kitchen. Luca drank from a chipped cup while Angela watched him with measured eyes.

“You’re here now,” she said. “But you have to decide who you’ll be to him. A shadow, or a presence.”

“I was never given the choice.”

“You were,” she said. “You just didn’t know it yet.”

Footsteps pitter-pattered down the hall.

Angela froze. “That’s him.”

Luca stood slowly, every breath shallow.

A boy appeared in the doorway.

Small. Curls like black silk. Big eyes the color of summer storms—so much like Evangeline’s—but the jawline, the tilt of the mouth, the posture... All him.

Leo.

The boy blinked up at him. “Are you the lion?”

Luca’s throat closed.

Angela stepped forward. “Leo, this is Luca. He’s—”

“My friend,” Luca said quickly, kneeling. “Your mama sent me to check on you.”

Leo tilted his head. “Mama said the lion would come one day.”

“Did she?”

“Yeah. She said he’s big and sad and kind, but he doesn’t know how to smile.”

Luca smiled, barely. “That sounds about right.”

Leo walked over and placed his hand on Luca’s shoulder with childlike boldness. “Do you wanna see my sword?”

Luca blinked, nodding. “I’d be honored.”

The boy ran off down the hall. Luca stayed frozen in place, shoulders trembling. Angela reached out and placed a hand on his back.

“You have time,” she whispered. “But not much.”

Outside, a bird startled from a tree. A second later, a soft electronic ping echoed through Angela’s burner phone.

She checked it.

Her eyes darkened.

“What is it?” Luca asked, standing.

“They’ve found us.”

Twenty kilometers away, a black SUV with tinted windows sped up a winding road. Inside, a man spoke calmly into a comms device.

“Confirm target—child identified. Two occupants inside. No sign of Luca De Rossi yet.”

“Proceed,” came Alessandra’s voice on the other end. “No witnesses.”

Luca stared at Angela. “How much time?”

“Fifteen minutes. Maybe less.”

He looked down the hall toward Leo’s room. The boy’s laughter echoed as he slashed a plastic sword through the air, pretending to fight dragons.

He couldn’t die here.

Luca turned to Angela. “Do you have transport?”

“There's a boat docked below. Emergency route Evangeline left years ago.”

“Can you get him there?”

“What about you?”

Luca was already checking his pistol, loading it in silence. “I’ll stall them. They’re coming for me.”

Angela hesitated. “He needs you, Luca.”

He paused at the door, then turned back. “He needs Evangeline. And he needs to be alive when she sees him again.”

Angela nodded. “Don’t die.”

“I can’t afford to.”

He raced out the back as Angela disappeared with Leo through the hidden stairs behind the pantry. The dock below was invisible from the main road, and with any luck, the fog would keep them concealed.

Luca, meanwhile, walked straight into the storm.

Twelve minutes later, the SUV screeched into the gravel driveway.

Three men stepped out.

All armed.

They breached the door without knocking.

Empty.

“Clear,” one muttered.

But the moment the last man crossed the living room, a shot rang out—followed by a second. One fell forward without a sound, the other staggered, screaming as blood poured from his shoulder.

Luca emerged from the hallway with a second clip ready.

“Tell Alessandra,” he growled, walking toward the last man crawling backward, “that I’m done playing king. I’m becoming the goddamn storm.”

He pulled the trigger.

Far off, as the boat cut through the fog, Leo stood at the stern, watching the land fade.

Angela held him close.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“To somewhere safe.”

He looked up. “Will the lion find us?”

Angela smiled.

“He already has.”