Elena
It’s late. It’s too late. Why aren’t they back yet? I grip my shoulders tighter, staring out the windows of the second floor. From here, I can see the road leading to the house better.
“Signora, you need some rest.” Alice hovers behind me, unsure of what to do with herself in the middle of the hallway. “I have prepared a place for you in Max’s room. You could take a nap there.”
“Thank you, Alice, but I don’t need it,” I mutter without turning to her. “You can go if you want. Have some rest, too.”
In the reflection on the window, Alice looks hesitant. She glances at me, then at the stairs leading down, and her shoulders tense up-before she releases a long exhale and remains where she is. Alice is worried, too. The whole house is silent and brimming with tension, and I can hear other servants shuffling around the first floor.
Everything is so empty without the Messina family around. Riccardo has left a couple of guards to keep an eye on us, but they are just as restless as the rest of us. I can see their dark figures making circles near the entrance, tiny specks of light showing the never-ending cycle of cigarettes.
Damn it. I glance at my phone. It’s already two o’clock. Where are they?
It’s good that at least Max has already passed out. The encounter with the Mexicans left him shaking and exhausted, but at least he was mostly unharmed. I found a few bruises on his wrist and neck where they’d held him too tightly and dragged him in and out of their car as Max explained to me. He told me everything, actually, while I was inspecting his body to see if there were any injuries.
As it turned out, while I was gone, the Mexican boy invited him to play outside of the cafe-or at least, Max understood that much of his Spanish. So they sneaked out of Irina’s line of sight and got out onto the street where the boy immediately grabbed Max’s wrist. Everything else happened so quickly that even Max’s memories turned into a blur. A few strange men appeared out of nowhere and picked him up, Irina ran out of the cafe, and Max screamed and tried to get out of the strangers’ grip.
Irina had her pistol with her, so she tried to shoot the Mexicans, and they opened fire and wounded her right on the street. The panicking crowd didn’t let me and Louis reach them in time, and Max and the Mexicans were already in the car by the time Louis raised his gun. It was too late. They took off in a moment, and even if one of Louis’ bullets reached them, it did nothing to stop them.
Apparently, Max’s head was covered with a dark bag all the way to the shore where they forced him into the boat rental. The old man was nice to him and promised that his mom would be there soon. So Max behaved nicely and waited for me to come after him, and the old man and his helpers didn’t touch him.
How did the Mexicans know that I’d find out where Max was? I bite my lip, staring at the window with unfocused eyes. The more I think about it, the more I feel that today’s events were their plan all along-which makes it even harder to stop myself from worrying.
What if they’d expected Bratva to show up as well? What if there had been more people in the shadows, enough to defeat two Mafia families at once? I don’t doubt the power of my uncle even for a second, but…ah, I just can’t help it. Why aren’t they coming back?
I start spiraling down the same path of distress and anxiety when I catch a flicker of light in the distance. I inhale sharply and lean forward, staring at the dark snake of the road-and I catch it again. There is a chain of car lights moving toward the house, and I hold my breath in excitement and nervousness.
It should be their cars.
Riccardo is finally here.
I can barely keep myself from running down the stairs like a sixteen-year-old me in a rush to see him again. I have to make sure that Riccardo is safe and alive.
On the first floor, the servants are already preparing everything in a learned pattern that suggests it’s not the first time they’re welcoming the Messina Clan after a clash. Some of them quickly gather tables with drinks and food while others prepare bottles of ointments, painkillers, and bandages-just in case, I hope.
Alice joins them a moment later, and I feel like everyone around me knows how to be useful except for me. The guards and servants are clearly familiar with the procedures, and I have no idea how to help them, so I just linger at the base of the stairs, unsure of what to do. I want to be a part of it. But am I willing to be a part of this family?
The voices from outside distract my thoughts, and I turn to the entrance just in time to see Riccardo walk through the door with Paolo by his side. Louis holds the door open for them, and my heart skips a beat when I realize that Riccardo has a bandage on his arm and a slight limp to his step. He’s not unharmed-but he is alive, and well enough to look as calm and collected as ever.
“… to clean the bar. It’s the first place they’d use to catch their breaths, and we can’t let them have it,” Riccardo says, going straight to the table with drinks as if it’s just a regular evening for him.
“Do you think that’s necessary?” Paolo glances at their men following them inside the house. Most of them are wounded in one way or another, and something tells me there are more lying in the underground hospital right now. “The Mexicans are weak but so are we. Maybe we should gather strength first.”
“If we give them time, they’ll cross the border and slip out of sight.” Riccardo stops and turns to the rest of them with a grim look. “For everyone they’ve taken from us, we have to burn them in their holes until there is not a single trace of the Escarra family left in this city.”
Paolo casts his gaze to the floor and slowly nods. “Alright. I will check who is ready to fight, and we’ll take off in the morning.”
He doesn’t look his best either-with a broken lip and blood dripping from under his shirt-and I notice Alice anxiously glancing at him. As soon as Riccardo confirms Paolo’s words with a quick nod, the rest of his men spread around the living room in search of medications or a quick snack. Alice catches the moment to bring Paolo a towel and a pack of ice, before my attention switches to Riccardo.
From the corner of my eye, I see him stumble slightly in his step, and without a thought I rush toward him, ignoring the glances of those around me. Riccardo himself instinctively tenses up when I take hold of his elbow to support him, and I notice surprise in his eyes before it shifts into something unreadable.
“You’re here,” Riccardo murmurs in a half-questioning tone, and I chuckle, feeling nervous all of a sudden.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
But I know what he means. Riccardo gave me a way out of his life when he handed me the keys. If I wanted to escape him, I could have gotten out of the city before anyone would even think about looking for me. I had a chance to save Max from this life of danger and myself-from the marriage I had been dreading all my life.
Why didn’t I take it?
Because a life of freedom means a life of loneliness. It takes away every pillar that has ever held you up and leaves you on your own with every blow that life throws your way. And when I look Riccardo in the eyes and tighten my grip on his elbow, I don’t know which one of us is supporting the other. But I for sure know that I’m not ready to let go of him.
I don’t know what exactly Riccardo can see in my eyes, but a few seconds later, he clears his throat and looks around. The living room looks much calmer now with most of the men moving to the dining room, but a few people still linger behind to patch themselves up or share a drink. It’s not the best place for any private conversation right now, and Riccardo clearly sees that as well.
“I wonder if you, uh, could help me get up the stairs?” He looks at me, and I can’t help a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.
It is a big deal for the head of a Mafia family to admit his weakness, and I almost want to tease him-but at the last moment, I catch the look in his eyes. Riccardo is clearly uncomfortable with asking for my help, but he did open up to me. It’s a big deal, huh? It feels wrong to use it just for a joke.
“Of course.” So I smile at him instead and nod in the direction of the stairs. “Let’s go?”