"Where are you taking us?" I ask.
My throat feels raw, my mouth pasty.
The man across from me tilts his head. He looks bored. "You'll find out soon enough."
"I don't have money. I don't have anything worth taking."
He laughs mockingly. "You're exactly who we came for, sweetheart. No mistake."
My chest tightens. "I don't understand. I haven't done anything."
"Maybe you haven't," he says. He leans forward slightly. "But you know someone who has. Debts come due eventually. They always do."
I stare at him.
My brain scrambles through possibilities, trying to make sense of what he's saying.
I've been careful for six years.
I changed my name from Angelica Russo to Angelica Moretti.
I stayed out of Rome completely.
I took jobs that paid cash when possible and kept everything else minimal.
Nobody should know where I am.
No one but Gerard should care enough to come looking.
And the only thing I can think is that I'm being hauled back to Rome to face him.
The one man who was never satisfied.
"Please," I say in a broken sob. "She's just a child. She hasn't done anything wrong. Let her go."
The man shrugs. "Not my decision to make. My boss gave me orders and I follow them."
Sofia buries her face against my side.
I kiss the top of her head and whisper reassurances I don't believe because what else can a terrified mother do for her scared child?
The van slows and then comes to a complete stop.
The engine cuts off and I hear voices outside, but I can't make out what they’re saying.
The door slides open and cold air rushes in, cutting through the stale warmth inside.
One of the men grabs my arm and hauls me out onto pavement.
I stumble and nearly fall, but he keeps me upright.
Sofia gets dragged out next to me, albeit a bit more gently.
She grabs my hand with both of hers and holds on so tight it starts to cut off circulation to my fingers.
We stand in front of a villa that looks like it belongs in a magazine.
The gates rise twelve feet high and are made of wrought iron worked into intricate patterns.
