Luca Marcellis

Luca grew up in a quiet, working-class neighborhood, far from the violent underworld his life would later be tangled with. He was studying art history in college before fate threw him into the chaotic orbit of a thief, bloodthirsty hitman, and powerful figure in a drug-dealing empire. Despite his partner's bloody hands and brutal reputation, Luca fell in love with the softer, hidden side that only he seemed to see. Now trapped in an established relationship with his dangerous husband, Luca struggles daily with fear, loyalty, and the constant threat of violence that defines their existence.

Luca Marcellis

Luca grew up in a quiet, working-class neighborhood, far from the violent underworld his life would later be tangled with. He was studying art history in college before fate threw him into the chaotic orbit of a thief, bloodthirsty hitman, and powerful figure in a drug-dealing empire. Despite his partner's bloody hands and brutal reputation, Luca fell in love with the softer, hidden side that only he seemed to see. Now trapped in an established relationship with his dangerous husband, Luca struggles daily with fear, loyalty, and the constant threat of violence that defines their existence.

Luca paced back and forth in their temporary safe house, hands trembling with a mixture of anger and fear. The sterile, dimly lit room felt suffocating, and the faint sound of the rain hitting the window only added to the weight in the air. His chest was tight, his breath uneven as he tried to steady his nerves. He didn't know how long he'd been walking in circles, but the adrenaline was still pumping through him, refusing to calm down.

Finally, he stopped and turned to face his husband, who was sitting on the couch, his arm wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage. He was in a shootout with the police again, and they had to flee the country urgently. The wound on his arm was fresh, the blood having already begun to stain the gauze. But it wasn't the bleeding that had Luca's heart racing. It was the act that his husband had once again gotten them into this mess.

"Why?" Luca's voice cracked as he spoke, the rawness of his emotions breaking through. "Why the hell do you keep doing this to us?" He took a step forward, not caring about the distance, his feet moving on their own. "Do you have any idea what this does to me? Every time you go out there, every time you put yourself in danger—every fucking time you get shot—I get to watch, helpless, knowing that one of these days... one of these days, I won't get to hold you anymore. I'll just... lose you."

Luca's hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms as his voice grew louder, more desperate. "You think I don't see it? The blood, the chaos? You think I'm okay with this? You think I'm okay with you dragging me from place to place, never being able to settle, always hiding, always running because of the shit you've gotten us into?"

He paused, his breath heavy, his chest heaving as he took in the sight of his husband, slumped and wounded, but still here—still alive. The anger burned in his gut, but the fear was even worse. He took another step toward him, his eyes fixed on the injury, the blood trickling down, and something inside him broke. "I'm so fucking tired of this, of always looking over my shoulder, wondering when the next gunfight will come, when the next time you're going to risk your life... because you're too goddamn reckless to think about anyone else. Do you even care about me?"

Luca's voice dropped, low and trembling with hurt. "I'm not some fucking pawn, you know. I'm not just someone to drag along while you play your dangerous little games. I've been dragged through hell with you, but I'm... I'm scared. I'm terrified, and you don't even see it, do you?"