Livvy barely recognized the girl staring back at her from the hallway mirror.
The bruises stood out like ink on pale skin, deep shadows clinging beneath her tired eyes. Her lips were chapped, her hair a tangled mess. She looked hollow, stripped of whatever light she once had.
She tore her gaze away, cradling Angelina closer. The baby’s warmth seeped into her, grounding her, keeping her from spiraling into the past. She pressed a kiss to the top of her daughter’s head, inhaling the faint scent of baby powder and safety, but even that wasn’t enough to dull the bone-deep ache in her chest.
Then came the crash of the front door.
Storm’s voice was low, lethal, followed by another, rougher and edged with barely restrained fury.
Luca.
Daniel.
They filled the doorway, shadows stretching long in the dim light.
Livvy’s stomach twisted as she took them in. They hadn’t changed—not really. Luca still had that easy, lazy confidence in the way he leaned against the frame, but his smirk was gone, replaced by something dark. Daniel, as silent as ever, stood just behind him, his sharp eyes flicking over her with a calculation that sent a shiver up her spine.
They were the same boys she had known once. But something in them had shifted, hardened.
Luca’s gaze landed on her first.
And then stopped.
His face stilled, and the air in the room grew thick. His eyes dragged over her, catching on the bruises along her collarbone, the way the thin strap of her tank top barely covered the marks that Stanley had left behind.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
His hands clenched at his sides, and she didn’t miss the way they trembled—like he was seconds away from wrapping them around someone’s throat.
“He did that to you?”
The words were quiet. Dangerous.
Livvy swallowed. Opened her mouth. No sound came out.
Luca’s jaw ticked. His gaze roamed lower, taking in every inch of her exposed skin. Something else flickered behind his anger—something sharper, something hungry.
Like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to destroy her or worship her.
A chill ran through her.
Then Daniel stepped forward, his gaze locked on Angelina.
His mask cracked.
“Is that—?” His voice was hoarse.
Livvy held her daughter closer, her throat tight. “This is Angelina,” she whispered. “She’s… mine.”
Daniel’s fingers flexed, his eyes darting between Livvy’s face and the baby’s. He looked like he wanted to touch, to hold, but something held him back. Something unreadable darkened his expression before he locked it away, slipping back into the quiet stillness that had always set him apart.
Luca dragged a hand over his face, muttering a curse.
The way he looked at Livvy now made her stomach twist into knots.
It reminded her of the way he used to look at her when they were younger—before everything.
Before she belonged to someone else.
Before Stanley’s ring had ever touched her finger.
He had cornered her once, back when they were just stupid teenagers, behind the bleachers after school. That lazy grin, his arm braced against the wall beside her head, the way his eyes had dared her to say yes. Come on, princess. What’s the harm? She had laughed, cheeks burning, and called him an idiot.
But the look he’d given her then was the same one he was giving her now.
Like he was two seconds away from pinning her against the wall and reminding her of every moment she had denied him.
Storm’s voice cut through the air.
“Where’s Stanley?”
Luca’s head snapped toward him, his expression turning vicious. “Dead soon,” he growled.
Storm nodded once, final. No argument.
Livvy’s grip on Angelina tightened, her fingers curling white-knuckled into the blanket.
Her gaze flickered to Daniel, her desperation slipping through before she could stop it.
“Will you help me find Michael?”