yield

It’s late afternoon by the time my husband drags me from bed with the promise of hot coffee. I don’t know how he manages to look his usual sharp, handsome self when we were up until the early hours of the morning. Maybe his secret is just an insatiable bloodthirst.

I, on the other hand, am bleary-eyed and only half-conscious as we settle at the breakfast bar with espressos and toasted paninis, courtesy of a chipper Chiara.

“I don’t know how you’re managing that,” I mumble around a mouthful of food, squinting at Lucian. “Teach me your secrets for eternal energy.”

He chuckles, squeezing my leg under the table. The casual affection sends my heart fluttering despite my exhaustion.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, his tone deceptively light. “You’ve made it clear you want to be more involved in what I do going forward…” He takes a sip of his espresso, watching me carefully. “Would you like to join me when I interrogate Luca?”

My grip tightens around my cup. The invitation is unexpected, but not unwelcome. I’ve wanted to be more than just a spectator—more than the wife left at home while her husband wages war. The idea of standing beside Lucian, of breaking someone down together, sends a thrill through me.

I swallow, setting my coffee down. “You really mean that?”

His lips curve into a slow, knowing smile. “I want to see more of my vicious little wife in action.”

The thought of the two of us, side by side as we take on a trembling hostage, is a twisted dream I’ve had for weeks now. Even if Luca isn’t the victim I had in mind.

I knock back the rest of my espresso, leaning in to kiss him on the corner of his mouth. “If you can bear to share the spotlight, I’m sure we’d make a great team.”

Lucian hums approvingly, his fingers tracing idle patterns against my thigh. “We’ll see about that.”

---

By the time we pull up to the barn, I’m practically vibrating with restless energy. The drive had been quiet, but the anticipation crackling between us was anything but.

Nico is waiting for us outside, arms crossed as he nods toward the dimly lit outbuilding. “He passed out while Enzo was digging out the bullet. Pathetic little worm.”

Lucian’s arm tightens around my waist as we approach. “How’s the patch-up job?”

“Oh, he’ll live,” Nico smirks. “But I’ve just disinfected the wound again and replaced the bandages, so he shouldn’t die before you’re done with him.” He claps Lucian on the back, winking. “Have fun, you two.”

I return his grin with one of my own.

We step inside, the scent of blood thick in the air. Luca is slumped in a steel chair, wrists bound, head lolling forward. The ground around him is still stained with the evidence of what’s been done to him so far.

Lucian walks over to the trellis table, running his fingers over an array of gleaming instruments. For now, he seems content to lean back, letting me take the lead.

The weight of his attention is almost a physical thing, pressing against me as I step closer to Luca.

“Welcome back,” I murmur, voice dripping with false sweetness. “I hope you’re ready to talk.”

Luca stirs with a low groan, eyes fluttering open. They flick from Lucian to me, then back again, his confusion morphing into something closer to dread.

I wonder how many dons he’s seen bring their wives to an interrogation.

My grin widens. I figure the number is likely zero.

Luca swallows thickly, but manages to grit out, “You’re wasting your time. I’m not telling you anything.”

I sigh, crouching beside him. “Why don’t you start by telling us where Riccardo is?” I place my hand just above his bandaged knee, applying the slightest pressure.

He stiffens, struggling to sit more upright. “I—I don’t know where he is.”

I tut, dragging my fingers lower until I’m pressing against the ruined joint. “Think a little harder for me.”

His strangled cry echoes through the outbuilding.

Lucian chuckles, low and dark.

I press down harder. “Don’t fall asleep on me now, Agosti. We’re just getting started.”

Luca shakes his head violently. “I swear, I—I don’t know! I’m not close enough to know his plans!”

I lean in, brushing a few strands of blood-matted hair from his forehead. “Seeing as you’re never going to walk again anyway, why don’t we give you a matching pair of wrecked kneecaps, hmm?”

His breath hitches.

Lucian waves a hand over the table in silent invitation. “Why don’t you take a turn, cara mia?”

I browse the selection for a moment before settling on a rusted hammer. The weight of it feels good in my hands.

Lucian watches me with barely concealed amusement. “Perhaps our new friend will find you a little more persuasive.”

I smile sweetly and turn back to Luca.

His eyes widen in pure terror.

His screams ring through the barn a second later.

Lucian takes his time, carving slow, deliberate lines into Luca’s trembling flesh. He does it with the kind of precision that makes my stomach tighten—not in disgust, but in something far more dangerous.

I can’t tear my eyes away. He’s utterly in control, utterly ruthless, and completely beautiful in his element.

Luca sobs, shaking violently. “P-please…”

Lucian sighs in exaggerated disappointment. “Tell us what Riccardo has planned, and I’ll put you out of your misery sooner rather than later.”

Luca squeezes his eyes shut, but his resistance is crumbling.

Lucian waits a beat, then picks up a carving knife and presses the blade just below Luca’s collarbone. “We’ll continue, then.”

The knife sinks easily through skin and muscle.

I hum in appreciation, stepping up beside my husband and winding my arms around his neck. I kiss him slow and deep, reveling in the way his bloodstained fingers tighten against my waist.

“Besides,” I whisper against his lips, “I haven’t had the chance to see you up close like this before.”

Lucian smirks, handing me a pair of pliers.

“Then let’s make this a night to remember.”

The metallic scent of blood clung to the air, thick and suffocating. Aurora wiped her hands against her dress, though the dark stains wouldn’t come off so easily. Across from her, Luca sagged in his chair, his breaths ragged, his body trembling. He had stopped fighting long ago—now, he simply shook, eyes glassy with exhaustion and pain.

Lucian stood beside him, calm as ever. His fingers traced over the hilt of his gun, his expression unreadable as he tilted his head slightly. “Tell me again,” he murmured, voice a quiet blade cutting through the silence. “What does Riccardo want?”

Luca whimpered, eyes darting toward Aurora before dropping to the bloodstained floor. “H-he wants to wipe out the last of your line,” he choked out. “And…he wants her.”

Aurora felt a chill creep up her spine. Me?

Lucian’s grip on Luca’s jaw tightened, forcing the younger man to meet his gaze. His voice, still calm, now carried a dangerous edge. “He thinks he can take her from me?”

Luca barely managed a nod before Lucian released him with a shove. The young man gasped, his head lolling forward.

Aurora’s stomach twisted. It wasn’t pity—no, that was long gone—but a realization. Riccardo hadn’t just been waging war against Lucian. He had been planning this for her.

Lucian exhaled sharply, stepping back. “We’re done here.”

Luca barely had time to react before the gunshot rang out.

Aurora flinched, but only slightly. The sound of it echoed in her chest, vibrating through her bones. A second later, silence settled over the room, thick and final. Luca’s body slumped, lifeless.

Lucian lowered his gun and turned to her, his gaze searching. “You did well.”

She wasn’t sure what he saw on her face—whether it was approval or something else—but he reached for her hand, his fingers brushing hers before entwining them fully.

“Come, principessa,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Let’s go home.”

They left the barn together, stepping out into the bright afternoon sun. Aurora blinked against the light, inhaling the fresh air as if it could cleanse her of the darkness inside.

But she knew better.

Nothing would ever wash this away.

Yet as Lucian’s grip tightened around hers, steady and unyielding, she realized—maybe she didn’t want it to.

I manage to suck in a breath through my nose, forcing down the lingering haze in my mind. My legs feel unsteady beneath me, but Lucian’s hands are there—one steady at the small of my back, the other sliding lower, grounding me.

"Steady there, principessa," he chuckles, his voice rough yet gentle, filled with satisfaction. He holds me close, his thumb brushing lazy circles against my skin.

I pull back slightly, tilting my head to meet his gaze. A smirk tugs at his lips, dark and teasing. "And here I was thinking you enjoyed yourself," I murmur.

Lucian exhales a slow breath, his fingers trailing up to cradle my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks. His eyes burn with something deep, something possessive. "You have no idea what it does to me to see you like this. Wrecked. Mine."

Heat blooms in my chest, and I bite my lip, feeling the way his words settle inside me. The way they claim me.

I melt into his embrace as he presses slow, languid kisses down my neck. My fingers trace the front of his shirt, smoothing over the fabric until I reach the first button of his pants. "Bed now. Food later," I suggest, my voice barely above a whisper.

Lucian hums, amused. "Hmm, I like the way you think. But I should offer you dinner first…" He pauses, his hands sliding down my sides before gripping my hips, pulling me flush against him. "Then again, I find myself hungry for something else entirely."

A shiver runs through me, and I laugh softly, resting my forehead against his. “You always do.”

His lips brush against mine, the kiss deep and lingering. I sigh into it, letting him take, letting him remind me who I belong to.

When I finally pull away, breathless and still dazed, his arms tighten around me. "You were incredible, wife of mine," he murmurs, wiping a stray strand of hair from my damp forehead.

A quiet warmth spreads through me at his words, a kind of pride settling in my chest. "Of course I was," I tease. "But you know I won’t rest until—"

His thumb presses against my lips, silencing me. "Until you’re carrying my child?" Lucian finishes for me, his voice softer now, yet filled with unshakable certainty.

A flicker of something—fear, anticipation, something more—flares in my chest. But I don’t shy away from it.

Because for the first time, the thought doesn’t seem as impossible as it once did.

Maybe, with Lucian by my side, I’m ready to face whatever comes next.