Luca had seen many things in his life as a mafia boss—blood, betrayal, death. But nothing prepared him for the sight of a wounded fairy collapsing in the alley beside his club.
The creature was small, delicate, with iridescent wings that flickered weakly in the dim light. Its golden hair clung to its pale face, and its silver eyes, hazy with pain, locked onto Luca’s.
"Help me," the fairy whispered before passing out.
Luca should have walked away. He dealt in weapons and power, not in fairytales. But something about the fragile being stirred something long buried inside him. He scooped the fairy up and carried him inside.
---
When the fairy woke up, he flinched. "You’re dangerous," he murmured, trying to sit up.
Luca smirked, lighting a cigarette. "And you’re bleeding all over my couch, so we’re even."
The fairy scowled. "You should’ve left me."
Luca exhaled a stream of smoke. "Too late for that, pixie."
The fairy huffed. "I’m not a pixie. My name is Riven."
"Luca." He leaned forward, eyes sharp. "Who did this to you?"
Riven hesitated. "Hunters."
Luca frowned. Hunters were a problem, even for him. "They after you?"
"They’re after all of us," Riven muttered, wings twitching. "They kill my kind for sport. I barely escaped."
Luca watched him, something unfamiliar stirring in his chest. "Then stay here. I’ll deal with it."
Riven’s silver eyes widened. "Why would a human mafia boss help a fairy?"
Luca chuckled darkly. "I like causing trouble. And I don’t like people thinking they can hunt in my territory."
Riven stared at him, then, unexpectedly, smiled. "You’re not as heartless as you pretend to be."
Luca tsked. "Don’t get soft on me, pixie."
Riven leaned closer, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "I think I like you, Luca."
Luca stiffened, then let out a quiet laugh. "Careful what you wish for."
But when Riven reached out, tracing a finger along Luca’s jaw, he didn’t pull away.
And for the first time in years, Luca felt something other than the weight of his sins.
