I sink down onto the bottom step of the staircase, still holding Sofia.
She's stopped crying, but her breathing is ragged, hitching every few seconds.
"It's okay," I whisper into her hair. "We're safe. We're safe."
But I don't believe it myself anymore.
If two men could get through the side gate in seconds, what's to stop a dozen more from doing the same?
Marta disappears down the hall, presumably to check on the guards, but I stay where I am, rocking Sofia gently.
The clock on the wall reads 1:02 a.m.
Dante should be home by now, and where is he?
Where was he when those men came after us?
My fear is slowly being replaced by anger.
Footsteps echo through the hallway.
I tense, pulling Sofia closer.
But it's only one of the guards.
He approaches slowly, his rifle lowered.
"We've secured the perimeter, Ms. Russo. You're safe. You should go to bed." His eyes flick up the stairs and this time, I get the feeling that I'm not wanted here.
He's not trying to encourage me to feel safe.
He's trying to remove me because he knows they're going to have to do some messy things and he doesn't want an audience.
"Who were they?" I ask.
"Enemies," is all he says, and I sigh.
It's not like knowing their names and occupations is going to give me any peace.
I close my eyes. "Does Dante know?"
"He's on his way now."
Good. Dante needs to know.
He needs to come back and be here to fix this.
It's too much. I'm overwhelmed.
The guard lingers for a moment, then turns and heads back down the hall.
I hear him giving orders to the other guards before the door shuts and we're plunged back into silence and the ringing of ears.
Sofia lifts her head from my shoulder and asks, "Is Papa coming home?" And this time, I hear her plainly.
"Yes, baby. Soon."
"I want to see him."
