CHAPTER 100: DEFEATING THE PAST

The morning broke in eerie silence after weeks of chaos. Palermo’s skyline, bruised and gray from days of conflict, seemed to hold its breath as though the city itself was waiting for something to end or begin. The DeLuca estate stood like a fortress of survival, its walls marked by the scars of battle, its halls echoing with the ghosts of all that had been lost. Inside, Luca and Aria faced the dawn not as fugitives, not as enemies of fate, but as two people standing at the edge of their past, ready to end it once and for all.

Luca hadn’t slept in two nights. The circles beneath his eyes were as dark as the memories that haunted him, his father’s blood on marble floors, Matteo’s betrayal, the countless faces of men he’d buried to keep a name alive that no longer meant peace. When Aria found him in the study, his hands were braced against the desk, eyes fixed on a photograph, an old black-and-white picture of his family before the rot began.

"You’re still trying to save them," she said softly.

He didn’t turn. "I’m trying to make sense of what they died for."

Aria moved closer, her voice low but steady. "Maybe they didn’t die for the family. Maybe they died so you could build something better."

Luca finally looked at her. "Something better doesn’t rise from ashes, Aria. It rises from what we refuse to burn."

"Then stop burning everything." Her hand brushed his arm gently. "You’ve punished yourself long enough. Matteo’s gone. Your father’s gone. The only one still bleeding for their sins is you."

He said nothing, but the silence was heavy with unspoken guilt. She stepped closer until their foreheads almost touched. "The Circle is coming for us again, isn’t it?"

He hesitated, then nodded. "They sent word at dawn. One last demand our surrender. They want our territories, our shipping lanes, everything. If we refuse, they’ll hit the orphanage we rebuilt on the south side."

Aria’s blood ran cold. That orphanage had been their first joint project after the war began her idea, his funding. "They’ll kill innocents to prove a point," she whispered.

"That’s what men without honor do." Luca’s voice was flat, emotionless. "And that’s what we’re ending today."

"Ending?"

He met her eyes. "I’m done reacting. I’m taking the fight to them."

Aria stared at him, recognizing the steel in his tone. "And what happens after? When they’re gone?"

He took a step closer, his hands finding her waist. "Then we bury the past, for good. No more bloodlines, no more revenge. Just us."

She wanted to believe him. But the shadows in his eyes told her the price he was about to pay.

By dusk, the DeLuca compound was alive with movement, men loading weapons, cars lining up under the fading sun, engines purring like beasts waiting to be unleashed. Aria stood on the balcony, with her hands placed on her big belly, watching it all unfold with a strange calm. It felt like standing on the shore before a storm, knowing the tide would take something with it when it went out.

Nico approached her quietly. His arm was still bandaged from the dock ambush, but he moved with his usual quiet confidence. "He’s not coming back from this one, is he?"

Aria’s throat tightened. "He thinks he can stop the cycle by finishing it himself."

"Sometimes that’s the only way men like him know how to love," Nico said, his voice softening. "With war instead of words."

Aria turned toward him. "And what about peace? Doesn’t he deserve that too?"

Nico gave a faint smile. "He deserves you. That’s better than peace."

When Luca appeared below, commanding his men into formation, Aria’s heart clenched. His black suit was replaced with tactical gear, the leader giving way to the warrior once more. She descended the stairs swiftly, intercepting him before he could get into the car.

"You don’t get to leave me behind," she said firmly.

He sighed. "Aria...."

"No. Don’t ’Aria’ me. You said we were in this together. That doesn’t end now." She placed his hand on her belly so he could feel their child kick hard against his palm. "You feel that? That is the reason you come back tonight. Not for territory. Not for pride. For us."

His jaw worked, emotion cracking through the mask. The baby kicked again, stubborn and insistent. Something in Luca broke open.

"I swear," he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. "I swear I am coming home to both of you."

He kissed her once, hard and desperate, then helped her into the armored car himself.

"Deal."

He exhaled, knowing she would never truly obey that order. But he let her come anyway. He always did.

The Circle’s compound was an abandoned vineyard outside Trapani, its beauty long corrupted by blood and secrets. Under the cover of darkness, Luca’s convoy rolled through the gravel roads, headlights off, engines humming low. Rain began to fall, soft at first, then harder, until the night was drenched in silver.

Inside the car, Aria’s hands trembled slightly against her lap. Luca reached over, covering them with his own. "You’re shaking."

"I’m fine."

He smirked faintly. "You’re terrible at lying."

"So are you," she shot back, meeting his gaze.

He looked at her, and for a moment, the war outside ceased to exist. "When this is over," he said quietly, "I want to build that vineyard you always talked about."

She blinked. "The one with lavender fields?"

"Yeah. Away from this place. Away from all of it."

"And what will we grow?" she asked softly.

He smiled, that rare, devastating smile that had once disarmed her. "A life."

The car stopped. The men signaled all clear. And just like that, the dream of lavender fields vanished into the night.

The attack was surgical. Luca’s men breached the gates with precision, moving like shadows through the rain-soaked grounds. Aria followed close, her pulse thundering in her ears. She wasn’t armed, but her resolve was iron. She needed to see this end.

Inside the main hall, the serpent emblem gleamed above the fireplace. The leader of the Circle, a man named Vittorio Mendez (Aria’s uncle) waited with his guards. His smile was cold, mocking.

"Don DeLuca," Vittorio said, spreading his arms. "How poetic. You come to die in the house your ancestors once tried to buy and you brought a new life to watch the old die," he sneered, eyes on her belly.

Luca didn’t flinch. "You talk too much."

"Still hiding behind a woman, I see," Vittorio sneered, nodding at Aria. "The bastard heiress of a dead bloodline. I suppose that makes you the perfect trophy."

Luca moved before anyone could blink. His gun fired once, clean, precise. Vittorio’s glass shattered, wine splashing red across his chest.

"That’s for touching her name with your mouth," Luca said coldly.

Chaos erupted. Gunfire tore through the hall, shattering chandeliers and echoing like thunder. Aria ducked behind a column, covering her ears, the acrid smell of gunpowder filling her lungs.

She peeked out just in time to see Luca take down two men in swift succession but another emerged behind him, blade drawn. Without thinking, she grabbed a fallen weapon and fired. The man fell instantly, and for a split second, Luca turned to look at her, shock and pride mingling in his eyes.

When the smoke finally cleared, only the sound of rain remained. Vittorio lay lifeless among his men, the serpent emblem now smeared in blood.

Luca dropped his weapon, his chest heaving. Aria crossed the distance between them, her hands trembling as she cupped his face. "It’s over," she whispered. "You did it."

He closed his eyes, forehead resting against hers. "We did."

The weight of generations seemed to lift in that moment. The ghosts that had haunted the DeLuca name, the endless cycle of revenge and survival, it all ended there, in a room where two bloodlines had finally refused to keep killing for legacy.

Days later, Palermo was quiet again. The papers called it a "business settlement," the police called it "an internal dispute." No one spoke of the Circle anymore.

Luca and Aria stood by the sea, the wind soft and cool against their faces. He slipped his hand into hers, their fingers fitting together with the ease of something long destined.

"Do you think it’s really over?" she asked.

He gazed at the horizon where the sun was bleeding gold into the water. "No," he said. "But I think it’s finally beginning."

She smiled, resting her head against his shoulder. "Then let’s begin right."

He kissed her temple, his voice barely a whisper. "No more ghosts. No more blood. Just us."

Behind them, the waves erased the last footprints of the night before. Ahead, the future stretched wide and unwritten, fragile, hopeful, and free.

The DeLuca empire had survived its wars, but Luca and Aria had done something far greater. They had survived themselves.

And in that survival, they had finally, beautifully, defeated the past.