The moment the Peaky boys stepped into the marble hall of Luca Changretta’s mansion, the air shifted. Men like Tommy, Arthur, John, and Finn didn’t spook easily—but even they paused at the sight that explained everything about Luca’s sudden privacy, silence, and possessive behavior.

Because there she was.

A 5'2 little menace, back turned, long black hair falling to her ass, wrapped in Luca’s oversized black cloud hoodie, thick thighs hugged by tight black compression shorts, grey socks pushed up, chubby cheeks soft as she inspected the endless line of luxury cars being shifted around the garage to make room for yet another new arrival.

Luca stood with the Peaky crew—broad, cold, unreadable as ever—until their eyes flicked between the girl and him.

Arthur whispered, “That… that’s why you’ve been hidin’, eh?”

John smirked, elbowing Finn. “Bloody hell, Luca. She’s the reason you’ve been refusin’ to show face?”

Tommy didn’t smile, but the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away. “Explains the sudden… discipline.”

Luca didn’t flinch at the teasing. He simply rolled his rings against each other, gaze locked on the girl like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Then he finally spoke—voice low, cold, but carrying an unmistakable softness the Shelbys had never heard from him:

“She’s mine. And I don’t share what’s mine—with the world or with enemies.”

He slid his hands into his pockets, eyes still following every movement of the little shawty in his hoodie.

“That’s why I stay private now.” A beat. “Because keeping her safe matters more than keeping my name loud.”

The Peaky boys exchanged looks—understanding perfectly.

For the first time ever, Luca Changretta wasn’t just dangerous.

He was dangerous with something to lose.