Fated reborn - Chapter 258: Chapter 258

Luciano's Pov.
The city lights blurred past in streaks of gold and white, headlights weaving slow through the dark, and the low rumble of the car engine was more lullaby than noise, soft and steady under the quiet. Victor was slouched in the passenger seat, eyes half-lidded and head tipped back, and I huffed, fingers drumming slow against the wheel.
We'd stayed later than planned—long past sunset, long past when most of the staff had clocked out. The damn paperwork was endless, signatures and stamps and fine print twisting thick on the pages. My fingers were still stiff, ache dull in my knuckles, and exhaustion was dragging slow at my bones, heavy in my chest.
Victor yawned, jaw cracking loud, and slumped further down in his seat, limbs sprawled lazy. “Hate this,” he grumbled, voice muffled, eyes slipping shut. “We need a vacation.”
I snorted, lips twitching. “We just got back,” I muttered, glancing at him sidelong.
He cracked an eye open, glare half-hearted. “Doesn’t count,” he mumbled, words slurring slow with sleep. “All we did was work.”
“Stop whining,” I snorted, but the corners of my mouth were curling, smirk tugging despite the ache settling deep in my shoulders.
He shot me a lazy glare, flipping me off without even looking. “Heartless,” he muttered, eyes slipping shut again.
The rest of the drive was quiet, city lights stretching long and soft, and the car tires rumbled slow over the pavement, turns smooth and steady. The house came into view around the curve, lights warm and gold against the dark, gates sliding open with a soft click.
Victor grunted when I shoved his shoulder, blinking blearily, and scowled half-hearted when I smirked, pulling into the garage. “Go to bed,” I muttered, cutting the engine. “You look like shit.”
He snorted, dragging himself upright with a groan. “You’re one to talk,” he shot back, but his voice was slurring, steps uneven as he shoved the door open and staggered out.
I rolled my eyes, pushing out of the car with a grunt, and the door clicked shut behind us, locks sliding into place with a dull thunk. The house was quiet, shadows stretching long across the floors, and the air was cool, AC humming low.
I tugged my jacket off, daping it over the back of a chair, and Victor had already disappeared down the hall, door clicking shut behind him. I huffed, rolling my shoulders slow, and started up the stairs, footsteps soft on the wood.
The bathroom light flickered warm, tiles cool underfoot, and I slumped against the counter with a sigh, dragging a hand down my face. The mirror was fogged, edges blurred, and my reflection was shadowed, dark circles smudged under my eyes.
I scowled, stripping off my shirt with a grunt, and the fabric hit the floor soft, boots kicked off into the corner. The shower knobs squeaked, water rushing hot, and steam curled slow and thick, easing the tight ache in my muscles.
The water was scorching, sluicing down my back in steady streams, and I braced a hand against the wall, eyes slipping shut, breath easing slow and deep. The heat soaked in, warmth spreading slow, and the tension bled out, exhaustion settling deep and heavy.
By the time I stepped out, steam hung thick in the air, mirror clouded white, and the towel was warm, edges rough against my palms. I scrubbed a hand through my hair, water dripping slow, and pulled on a loose shirt and sweats, feet dragging heavy over the tiles.
The hallway was quiet, lights dimmed low, and the faint clatter of plates and silverware drifted soft from the dining room, shadows flickering gold through the doorway. I huffed, shoulders slumping, and padded down the stairs, footsteps muffled on the carpet.
Victor was already sprawled at the table, fork twirling slow through a plate of pasta, and he grunted in greeting, eyes half-lidded and hair still damp. The maid was setting out plates, movements smooth and practiced, and she dipped her head with a soft, “Good evening, Alpha,” voice even.
I grunted, sliding into a chair with a sigh. “Evening,” I muttered, scrubbing a hand over my jaw.
The food was warm, sauce thick and rich, and the first bite had the tension easing slow, muscles unwinding. Victor’s eyes were slipping shut between bites, chewing slow, and I huffed, kicking his shin under the table.
He yelped, fork clattering, and shot me a glare, eyes narrowed. “Jerk,” he grumbled, voice slurred.
I snorted, smirk curling. “Don’t pass out at the table,” I muttered, shoving another forkful into my mouth.
“Bite me,” he grumbled, but there was no heat behind it, words muffled around a mouthful of pasta.
The rest of the meal passed in a haze of warmth and clinking silverware, conversation low and lazy, and by the time the plates were cleared, my eyes were drooping, limbs heavy with exhaustion. Victor yawned wide, head tipping back, and I snorted, rolling my eyes.
“Go to bed,” I muttered, pushing to my feet with a grunt. “Before you faceplant into the table.”
He huffed, shoving out of his chair with a scowl. “Bossy,” he muttered, but he was already shuffling off, feet dragging heavy over the floor.
I snorted, scrubbing a hand over my face, and followed slow, lights flicking off one by one, shadows stretching dark through the halls. The bed was soft, sheets cool and smooth, and I sank down with a sigh, muscles melting slow.
The room was dark, curtains drawn tight, and the ceiling stretched blank and shadowed above, quiet settling heavy and thick. My eyes slipped shut, breath easing slow, and the ache in my chest dulled, warmth spreading soft.
Trini’s name twisted slow through my thoughts, edges blurred and warm, and I huffed, rolling onto my side with a grunt. The pillow was cool, scent clean, and exhaustion pulled deep, breath steady and even.
Sleep dragged slow, heavy and thick, and the darkness was quiet, soft and warm at the edges, breath easing steady. Just for a moment, the ache didn’t hurt so bad.