Dante knows about Sofia now.
He suspects she's his, and the way he looked at her confirms that he won’t let us leave easily.
I pace the length of the room so many times, I start counting my steps.
Twelve steps from the door to the window.
Eight steps from the bed to the bathroom.
The bathroom is small but clean, with marble counters and a glass shower.
There are no windows, no other exits.
I return to the main room and examine the door.
The lock is heavy and bolted from the outside.
I press my ear against the wood and hear nothing except the faint hum of voices somewhere below.
It's killing me not knowing what's going on out there or what's being said about me.
Whoever took me from that street in Naples figured out my past with Dante and made very strong assumptions about Sofia, or at least that's what Dante wants me to believe.
It's logical, but it doesn't make sense.
I never told a soul what I did with him that night.
He's the only one who knew, and if he didn't have his men steal me from the street, I don't know who did.
I move to the vent near the floor along the far wall.
It's small and covered with a metal grate held in place by four screws.
I pull a hairpin from my pocket, the one I use to keep my hair out of my face during work calls.
The metal's thin but sturdy, so I bend it into a makeshift tool and work at the screws one by one.
The entire time, my mind is working feverishly to figure out why I'm here, of all places.
The first screw comes loose after several minutes of effort.
The second takes longer.
My fingers ache and the hairpin bends farther with each twist, but eventually, all four screws sit in my palm.
I pull the grate away and set it aside quietly.
The vent is dark and narrow.
I lie on my stomach and press my face close to the opening.
Cold air drifts up from below, carrying voices with it.
They are distant and muffled, but I can make out fragments of the same conversation that's too muffled to hear through the door.
"The port cleanup needs to happen before the Turk's deadline." The voice is male and unfamiliar. I strain to fully understand him. "We can't afford another delay."
"Dante wants every contact questioned again." Another voice, deeper than the first. "Someone's lying about the shipment. We just need to figure out who."
