Chapter 29 "His pain"
The first rays of morning light slipped through the half-open shutters, painting soft golden stripes across the silk sheets.
Elena stirred slowly, the dull ache in her bandaged arm and ankle pulling her from sleep like a gentle reminder of yesterday’s fall.
She blinked, lashes fluttering, and found Luca already awake propped on one elbow beside her, watching her with that quiet intensity that always made her feel like the only person in the world.
He hadn’t slept.
She could see it in the faint shadows under his eyes, in the way his scar stood out sharper against his skin.
But his gaze was soft, almost reverent, as if he was afraid she might vanish if he looked away.
“Don’t you sleep at all the whole night?” she asked, voice husky with sleep, a small, fond smile tugging at her lips despite the ache when she tried to shift.
Luca’s hand was there instantly, steadying her.
“Be careful,” he murmured, voice low and rough with worry..
“Your foot isn’t healed. Neither is the rest of your body.”
He slipped an arm behind her back, strong and careful, helping her sit up against the mountain of pillows.
Every movement was deliberate, gentle, as if she were made of the most fragile crystal.
He adjusted the blanket over her legs, tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, eyes never leaving her face.
Elena leaned into his touch, the warmth of his palm grounding her.
“You worry too much,” she whispered, though her heart swelled at the sight of him her fierce, terrifying king reduced to this quiet, devoted man who would sit guard all night just to watch her breathe.
“I worry exactly enough,” he replied, voice soft but firm.
He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead.
“Rest, butterfly. I’m right here.”
She smiled, eyes heavy again, safe in the circle of his arms.
Luca’s fingers drew idle, wandering circles along her shoulder, his gaze far-off yet smoldering with the vow of retribution that awaited in the depths below.
The air between them was heavy with unvoiced retaliation, the kind that crackled like lightning on the verge of a tempest.
“You killed both of them,” she whispered, voice small, almost afraid of the answer, her words barely louder than the distant crash of waves against the cliffs.
Luca’s gaze snapped to hers, dark and unreadable, the storm-gray of his eyes turning almost black in the soft light.
“No,” he said his voice is low, velvet over steel, each syllable measured and cold.
“I will kill them slowly. Slowly.”
The words hung in the air like smoke, cold and final, curling around them like the promise of winter.
Elena’s breath caught in her throat.
A shiver ran through her not from fear of him, but from the depth of the rage he carried for her sake.
She pushed herself up despite the ache that flared in her ribs and ankle, crawling into his lap with careful determination, arms wrapping around his neck.
She hugged him tight, face buried in the warm hollow of his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of cedar smoke and skin that always meant safety.
“Why are you like this, Luca?” she asked, voice trembling with love and sorrow, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.
“Like what, butterfly?” he murmured, arms locking around her waist, holding her like she was the only thing keeping him human, his heartbeat steady and strong beneath her palm.
“So ruthless,” she whispered, pulling back just enough to search his face.
“So cold.”
Luca pulled back just enough to look at her, thumb brushing her cheek with infinite tenderness.
“Are you scared of me, baby doll?”
“No,” she said instantly, eyes fierce through unshed tears, shining with unwavering trust.
“Never.”.
But the question lingered between them, heavy as the sea fog rolling in from the balcony.
She cupped his scarred cheek, thumb tracing the white lightning bolt that cut through his brow.
“But… you never talk about your past. Your parents. You never visit them. And when your mother came that day… she never came again. Why?”
Luca’s jaw tightened, the muscle ticking beneath her palm.
For the first time, the man who stared down empires, who commanded fear with a glance, couldn’t meet her gaze..
His eyes flicked to the window, to the endless blue sea stretching beyond the cliffs, anywhere but the woman who held his heart in her hands.
“There’s nothing to know about me, darling,” he said, voice flat, too controlled, a shield sliding into place.
He leaned in, kissed her forehead slow, lingering, a tender distraction.
But Elena felt it.
The way his fingers trembled against her back, the slightest hitch in his breath, the way his body tensed beneath her touch.
Luca Romeo, the unbreakable king, was hiding something that still bled deep, old wounds he’d buried under layers of steel and silence.
She didn’t push.
Not yet.
Just held him tighter, letting silence speak what words couldn’t, her arms a quiet promise that she would wait, that she would love every broken piece until he was ready to show her.
Outside, the sea whispered against the cliffs, eternal and patient.
Luca’s fingers traced idle patterns along her shoulder, but his gaze was distant, lost in shadows only he could see.
Elena turned her face up to him, eyes searching his profile the sharp line of his jaw, the scar that cut through his brow like a permanent reminder of battles fought.
“Luca… can I ask you something?” she whispered, voice soft, almost afraid to disturb the fragile peace.
“Yes, my wife,” he murmured, lips curving into a small, tender smile as he looked down at her, thumb brushing her cheek.
She took a breath, steadying herself.
“Is it that painful… that you’re not able to forget it, and neither able to share it?”
Luca stilled completely..
The hand on her shoulder paused.
His eyes, usually so steady, flickered with something raw and unguarded.
“How do you know…?” he asked, voice low, almost a whisper, surprise and wariness mingling.
Elena reached up, fingers gently touching the corner of his eye.
“I can see the pain in your eyes,” she said softly, voice full of love and sorrow.
“Every time someone mentions family… or mothers… it’s there. Like a storm behind the calm.”
Luca’s throat worked, the muscle in his jaw tightening.
For a long moment, he said nothing, gaze dropping to the sheet between them.
Then he exhaled, slow and heavy, like releasing a weight he’d carried alone for years.
“Not now, baby,” he said, voice rough, almost pleading.
“I will tell you when the time is right. Just know… my parents are not good people.”
He paused, eyes darkening with memories he couldn’t outrun.
“And I killed my mother. After that day.”
The confession fell between them like a stone into deep water.
Elena’s breath caught, but she didn’t pull away.
She didn’t flinch.
Instead, she cupped his face, forcing him to meet her gaze steady, unwavering, full of love.
“I’m here,” she whispered.
“Whenever you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere.”
Luca closed his eyes, leaning into her touch.
He turned his face, pressing a kiss to her palm.
“Thank you,” he breathed, voice barely audible.
He pulled her closer, arms wrapping around her like she was the only thing keeping the darkness at bay.
She rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat strong, steady, hers