Alina
“God, I hope he’s alright,” I mumble under my nose again, pacing around the living room of Isabella and Gio’s apartment. I’ve been doing this for the last twenty minutes, and it kinda helps me to calm down my nerves.
I’ve heard that it’s not good for pregnant women to be stressed, but well, at this point, I feel like peace is a privilege in the Mafia life, and not everyone gets to experience it. Even Isabella-who has given up on watching me and is staring at her laptop-looks nervous, and I’m sure she’s more used to this than I am.
“He’s alright, don’t worry.” Isabella gives me a quick glance that tells me she knows how pointless it is to say right now.
I’ll be worried until I see Gio again, safe and unharmed, with the truth of his mother’s death closing up the wounds in his heart. Isabella probably thinks that it’s dumb of me to be stressed about the meeting that I organized in the first place, but I don’t regret it. I’m sure that the only way to find out what happened to Beatrice is for the enemies to exchange their truths.
Which doesn’t mean that I’m sure it’s gonna end well. What if the truth is that the Messinas did kill her, after all? I’m sure Gio would blow up on the spot and try to kill Riccardo. And then what? Would the Russians stop him? Would the Italians kill him? God, I can feel my heart pounding just thinking about it.
I want to see Gio soon.
“Aren’t you worried?” I can’t help but ask a few minutes later, looking at Isabella. I do my best not to sound accusing-I don’t want to make her think that I doubt her feelings for Gio-but her calm demeanor throws me off.
Isabella only quirks an eyebrow at me over her laptop. “If I were stressing out every time he goes on a dangerous mission, I’d be bald and thin like a ghost by now.”
Fair enough.
“It’s all pointless anyway.” She shrugs and looks down at the screen again. “The Messinas are traitors, everyone knows that. I only hope that Gio has enough of a mind to not point his gun at Riccardo’s face again.” I purse my lips. “But what if Riccardo is innocent?”
Isabella laughs, but it sounds mocking and cold. For such a pretty woman like she is, it’s twice as unpleasant to see. “Innocent? Riccardo is the first person in this city to go to hell.”
Is there anything I can say that would change her mind? I look at Isabella for a moment before resuming my circles around the living room. I don’t think so. She’s like Gio. The only way for her to believe the Messinas is to hear the truth for herself. That’s not to say that I trust Riccardo with all my heart-but something about the way he talked about Beatrice made me believe him.
“Don’t get too close to the windows,” Isabella reminds me a few minutes later when I try to get a glimpse of the street outside. I heard the rumble of a motorcycle just now. What if it’s Gio?
I purse my lips but obediently walk away. The Escarras don’t know that I’m here, and it’s better for it to stay that way. Nobody knows what Gerardo will do if he finds out about the whole agreement between Gio and the Messinas.
“Maybe we should call him?” I ask again a few seconds later, feeling tightness in my chest. Something’s gonna happen, I don’t know why but I can feel it. “How long has it-”
But before I finish the sentence, I hear a knock on the door and immediately light up with a smile. Gio! But Isabella frowns and raises her hand, staring at the door with a frown. Why? What’s wrong?
“Stay here.” She shushes me and, after making sure that I follow her order, goes to the door. “Who’s there?”
“Your uncle! Aren’t you happy to see me?”
I blink, freezing in my spot. Who is it? Is it Gerardo?
I hear Isabella curse under her breath before she hums out loud. “Uh, I don’t know if it’s the best time…”
“I count to three, my dear. Open the door, or we’ll break it.”
We?
I look around with a wave of panic fluttering in my chest. Shit.
What should I do? I hear Isabella hesitating, and it gives me a moment to run to Gio’s bedroom. They won’t touch me here, will they? I instinctively put my hands on my belly and hide behind the open door of Gio’s closet, listening to the sounds in the hallway.
“Good girl,” the same voice says while at least two pairs of boots march through the hallway. I press my hand to my mouth, holding my breath as they walk past the door.
“Santiago? Jose?” Isabella sounds so surprised that even I believe her for a moment. “What are you doing here?”
“You know what.” But Gerardo sounds entirely unperturbed by her play, and I feel my heart tighten at the cold tone of his voice. “Where is
she?”
“Who?”
But at the same time, the door to Gio’s bedroom bursts open. I push my hand tighter over my mouth, but of course it’s pointless. It takes the Mexican man two steps into the room to notice me, and I realize only then that I have nothing to defend myself with.
“No, no!” I scream, trying to run away from him to the other side of the room, but it doesn’t save me.
At the last moment, the Mexican catches my waist, another one grabs my arm, and together they drag me out of Gio’s bedroom while I’m writhing and flailing in their steel grip. My heart is pounding and my knees are weak with horror when the men force me to stand before a man who I assume is Gerardo Escarra.
“And here’s our dear Alina.” The old Hispanic man with a thick mustache and dark, penetrating eyes gives me a fake grin before turning to Isabella, frozen by his side. “Did you think we wouldn’t find her?”
“What do you want from me?” I try to tug my hands out of the Mexicans’ grip, glaring at Gerardo with all the fury of my heart. “Olga will kill you if-”
“Olga shouldn’t have let you step into our territories.” He quirks an eyebrow and the smile disappears, leaving me face-to-face with the
coldhearted leader of the Escarra family. “If anyone’s gonna get killed, it will be you, my dear. I don’t like your tone.”
Is he gonna shoot me because of my tone? I swallow and look at Isabella, hoping to see at least a glint of reassurance, but the way she looks between me and Gerardo tells me she’s just as lost as I am. Shit. Shit! What are we gonna do now?
“That’s better,” Gerardo says, smiling again when I refuse to respond, and turns to Isabella. “I know it was all Giovanni’s idea, but you still have a chance to redeem yourself, Bella. Are you coming with us?”
Isabella opens her mouth, not knowing what to say for a moment, and glances at me. “Where?”
“To get rid of Riccardo once and for all, of course!”
What?
“What do you mean? How?” Isabella frowns, and Gerardo dramatically sighs and rolls his eyes as if he doesn’t believe he has to explain it.
“Easy. Alina here will drive us to Riccardo’s house where we’ll blow up his goddamn castle, wait for Riccardo to come back, and then- bam! We’ll shoot him.” He chuckles and glances at me with a glint of cold steel in his eyes. “We’re gonna finish what your brother was too weak to do.”
Are they gonna kill Elena?
I widen my eyes, and an incoherent sound of rage and terror gurgles in my throat before I start thrashing with new force. “No, no! I won’t do it, let me go! I won’t betray him like that, I won’t-”
I gasp and swallow the rest of my screaming when Gerardo takes out his gun and presses it against my belly. A shiver runs through my body, and I freeze in my place, not daring to move. The apartment gets so silent I hear cars honking outside and my own frantic heartbeat. No, god, please no.
“Are you gonna protest again?” Gerardo asks, looking at me with ice in his eyes, and I bite my lip and shake my head, tears burning in my eyes. Not my baby, please, not my baby. “Will you drive us to Riccardo’s place like a good girl?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and nod, whispering through dry lips, “I will.”
“Good.” He nods and pulls his gun away, although still pointing it at me, before turning to Isabella. “So, have you made up your mind? Are you with us-or are you with them?”
Gerardo nods at me with disdain in his voice, and I look at Isabella, meeting her gaze. I know she hates Riccardo, but it’s wrong. Gio gave him a chance, why can’t she?
Don’t do it, please don’t help them. I try to silently scream at her, hoping to deliver my bleeding heart through my eyes, but Isabella doesn’t react. She eyes me for a moment with a grim look and then looks at
Gerardo.
“When are we leaving?”
My heart drops, and I feel a shudder run through my body. How could I think she would choose Riccardo over her own revenge? I cast my gaze down, feeling utterly betrayed. Now I’m left on my own with this monster.
With the Mexicans’ guns pointed at me, there’s nothing I can do but follow their orders. As I take them to my car, I have a feeble hope that
someone will do something about it-but the few passersby close their eyes to the guns. It’s the Escarras’ territory, and no one wants to speak against them.
Isabella takes the front seat next to me as the Messinas are less likely to recognize her and stop me on the way to Riccardo’s mansion.
Gerardo and the other two take the back seats, and by the time I drive into neutral territory, the three of them are already leaning forward, hiding from the people outside. Shit. That asshole did think it through.
I glance at Isabella from time to time, hoping to see at least a glimpse of regret or support. But no, she spends the whole car ride staring out of the window and only once checks her phone with an indifferent expression before putting it away. Could it be Gio? Or am I being too hopeful? I bite my lip, looking at the road in front of me. What else do I have left?
I take the longest route I can imagine to Riccardo’s mansion, but finally it appears on the horizon. God, I can only hope for a miracle now.
While I bite back a surge of panic, Isabella hums to Gerardo, “We’re here.”
The Mexicans rise in their seats, their guns still directed at me.
When I glance at Gerardo through the rearview mirror, I see such a proud smirk on his face that I have a momentary desire to slam the brake just to make his face jam into the back of Isabella’s seat. But I’m too scared to do anything sudden, so I just turn into Riccardo’s property and drive to his house.
Even from afar, it looks quiet and empty, and when I park my car and look around, I realize that there are no guards or cars around. The front of Riccardo’s house is empty-save for one person leaning on the handrail at the base of the stairs. And it takes one glance for my heart to flood with relief and euphoria as I whisper out loud, “Gio.”
The Mexicans immediately tense up, but Gerardo nudges them before pointing his gun at me. “No sharp movements or you’ll be dead before you take another step, understand? Wait until I tell you to come out.”
I clench my jaw but nod, resting my hand on the door handle. God, I didn’t know it was possible for me to hate someone more than Yuriy, but here we are.
Gerardo and Isabella get out of the car first while one of the two Mexicans keeps his gun pressed to the back of my neck. I see Gio push off the handrail and turn to face them with his hands in his pockets.
“What are you doing here?” Gerardo asks first, but Gio doesn’t respond. He seems to be focused on the car, and when it seems like he’s looking at me, I swallow and try to smile with my heart frantically beating in my chest.
“What’s going on, Gerardo?” Gio looks up at him with his voice low and cold. “Why did you bring Alina here?”
“Oh, her?”
Gerardo glances at the car with a chuckle and knocks on the window. The Mexican pushes his gun deeper into my neck while the other one gets out and opens the door on my side, pointing his gun at me as I get out. The cool breeze of fresh air touches the heat on my cheeks, and I take a deep breath, trying to calm down my trembling arms.
“Your fiancee was kind enough to help us get here without trouble.”
Gerardo gives me an abhorrent smile and turns back to Gio. “Now, if you excuse me, we have unfinished business here, so if you want to see your baby alive, you-”
A sudden gunshot cuts him off, then another one, and I flinch, closing my eyes, but stay in the same place, too scared to provoke the
Mexicans. Someone’s yelling something, and the gunshots are thundering in my ears, but I stay still. Let me live, please, don’t kill me, god, please…
I keep repeating the same plea over and over until, a few moments later, I realize that I no longer feel the touch of cold metal on my neck. At the same time, I feel something warm and sticky on my arm and my sneakers, and when I risk glancing down, I see a trickle of blood.
The Mexicans are lying dead next to the car, and the sight sends a wave of nausea so strong I have to press my hands to my mouth to hold it back. My vision gets blurry, my legs suddenly weaken, and I lean on the car to keep myself standing when I feel someone grab my shoulder.
I don’t have enough strength in me to fight back, so I slump into their hold, and the last thing I hear is someone calling my name and Isabella’s low voice.
“Let her go.”