Stuck in a Mafia Romance

No One’s Pov

Lily’s eyelashes fluttered open, feeling impossibly heavy, as the harsh light of a white ceiling slowly came into focus. A sharp throbbing ache flared across her abdomen, making her wince softly. The quiet beep of a heart monitor echoed in the room, accompanied by the distinct smell of antiseptic.

Then, underlying it all, she caught a familiar scent of someone’s cologne.

Lily turned her head slowly on the pillow. Sitting on a low chair right beside her bed was Lucian. He had crossed his arms over the edge of her mattress, resting his head upon his forearms as he slept. His fluffy hair fell loosely across his forehead, and she could clearly see thick white bandages wrapped tightly around his broad shoulders and chest beneath his loosened shirt. He looked exhausted.

A gentle warmth bloomed in her chest. Slowly, despite the stinging pain in her stomach, Lily lifted her trembling hand and lightly ran her fingers through his hair. It was surprisingly soft against her skin. Her heart fluttered softly.

Why was he here? she thought, her eyes softening as she watched his quiet, rhythmic breathing. He was shot... He should be resting in his own room.

Realizing what she was doing, a sudden worry washed over her. She knew how particular and strict Lucian was- he absolutely loathed anyone touching him without permission. Just as she was about to pull her hand back, Lucian’s hand shot up with speed, his long fingers gently wrapping around her wrist.

Instead of pushing her away, he held her palm flush against his soft hair, refusing to let her let go.

"Don’t move it," his deep, raspy morning voice came, rough from exhaustion.

Lily’s breath hitched in her throat. "Young Master...?" she whispered, her voice cracked and dry.

Lucian opened his eyes, dark and heavy with sleep, and immediately stood up. He didn’t say a word as he reached for the glass of water sitting on the bedside table. Gently slipping his free arm behind her neck to support her head, he brought the glass right to her lips, tilting it carefully so she could take slow, small sips without choking.

As she drank, Lily’s gaze drifted down to his neck and collarbone, where fresh blood was faintly seeping through his bandages from the sudden movement. Her eyes instantly turned cold, a dark glint flashing through her irises. Elias. She was going to tear that man apart with her bare hands for doing this to him.

Lucian set the glass down and noticed the sudden murderous shift in her posture. A soft, breathless chuckle escaped his lips as he sat back down on the edge of her bed. "Is this little assassin thinking about murdering someone again, hm?" he teased softly, a faint smirk touching his mouth.

Lily’s eyes widened in sheer shock. He knows?

Panic flared deep in her stomach. Did he find out about her assassin background? Did he know she was the one who had breached his office to betray him? A strange, suffocating lump formed in her throat. For the first time in her life, she felt a desperate urge to explain herself- she couldn’t bear the thought of him looking at her with hatred or disappointment.

Seeing her completely dazed and spiraling into her own head, Lucian’s expression softened. He reached out, wrapping both of his warm, large hands securely around her calloused fingers, looking straight into her dark eyes.

"I don’t care what you do to me, Lily," Lucian spoke, his voice dripping with pure sincerity. "As long as you aren’t harmed, nothing else matters. Even if you hate me... I don’t care."

Lily stared at his hand holding hers, her throat tightening. "I... I don’t hate you," she confessed softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

A brilliant, breathtaking smile instantly spread across Lucian’s handsome face, his eyes lighting up with genuine joy. "Does that mean you like me?! no! Does that mean you love me?!"

Lily’s entire face flushed a deep red. She quickly looked away, biting her bottom lip in total silence, completely unable to meet his intensely eager gaze.

Click.

The door of the private VIP ward swung open. Dante stood at the threshold, holding a folder, staring at the two of them with completely unimpressed, bored eyes.

"Ahem, ahem," Dante cleared his throat loudly, stepping into the room. "You’ve had more than enough time, Lucian. Now leave my sister alone."

Hearing Dante casually refer to her as his sister, Lily’s head snapped toward him in quiet surprise.

Lucian groaned, glaring at Dante over his shoulder. "Oh, please, Dante, just let me stay five more minutes-"

"You’re bleeding through your shirt, idiot," Dante interrupted coldly. He grabbed Lucian by the back of his collar and physically began hauling the stubborn young master toward the door. "You need rest. Stop acting like a dramatic fool."

"I’m fine! Let go of me, Dante!" Lucian argued, gritting his teeth as he was dragged out into the hallway, his flushed ears still visible before the door clicked shut behind them.

A few minutes later, the door opened once more, and Dante stepped back into the room alone. The cold authority he usually wore completely melted away, replaced by an overwhelming, tender softness as he walked up to her bedside.

Dante reached down, his hands trembling slightly as he gently enveloped Lily’s small hands in his own.

"Lily..." Dante spoke, his deep voice carrying years of buried pain, guilt, and relief. "I can’t even begin to tell you how long I’ve searched for you. For years, I thought I lost my little sister forever... but you’re finally here. You’re finally back."

Lily looked up into his dark eyes, seeing the undeniable resemblance to her own features. She knew in her heart that Dante wasn’t at fault for their past separation, but after years of living as a cold, disposable weapon, she simply didn’t know how to react to such warm family affection. She sat frozen, her hand stiff in his grip.

Dante noticed her hesitation and gave her a reassuring, gentle smile, squeezing her hand lightly. "It’s fine, Lily. I don’t expect you to adjust to all of this overnight. Take all the time you need."

He stroked the back of her hand gently before continuing. "The doctors said you’re stable. We will be leaving the hospital soon, and you will finally come home with me to live in your own house- the Moretti estate."

Lily paused, her brow furrowing slightly. "But... what about My Lady?"

Dante tilted his head, a smooth, calm smile resting on his lips. "Don’t worry. Viella will be living in the exact same house."

Lily raised an eyebrow, looking at him suspiciously. "Don’t tell me you kidnapped her now...?"

Dante let out a low, amused chuckle. "You really do know me well, don’t you? But what else can I do? When she is constantly in danger out there, I want to protect her- so I’m keeping her right where I can see her."

"I won’t let her stay like that," Lily said plainly, her eyes narrowing with a quiet, stubborn glint.

Dante leaned in slightly, a dark, playful smirk spreading across his face. "If you come home quietly, I can kidnap Lucian for you, too."

Lily didn’t hesitate for a single second. "Fine."

Both of them shared a quiet, dark chuckle, their eyes glinting with the exact same possessive, obsessive intensity.

In the end, despite years of separation, these two siblings were truly cut from the exact same cloth.

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Lucian stood just outside the wooden door, leaning his back against the cold corridor wall. His hand rested lightly over his freshly bandaged chest, but the sharp ache in his ribs felt entirely distant compared to the deep, resonant warmth spreading through his chest.

He had heard every single word.

A low chuckle escaped his lips, vibrating softly against the quiet hallway. A faint, amused smirk curled the corners of his mouth as he looked down at the polished floorboards, his flushed ears gleaming under the dim hospital lights.

Kidnap me, hm?

If it were anyone else in the entire world threatening to cage him, he would have had them ruined before the sun came up. But if it was Lily- if it was his deadly, stubborn, beautiful little assassin holding the lock and key- he would walk into that cage willingly, without a single second of hesitation. He would gladly hand her the chains himself.

Lucian pushed himself off the wall and took a slow, deep breath, adjusting his dark coat over his shoulder.

Let Dante play his protective brotherly games. Let the underworld try to spin its dark webs. None of it mattered anymore. She was his, and he was hers- chained together not by force, but by a bond far deeper than blood, secrets, or past lifetimes.

They were bound to be together, and this time, he was never letting her go.

In The End It’s Him And Her.

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THE END