“Morelli.” He sounds almost tortured.
I press another key, ear cocked to hear the note. “Your sister must have been an amazing woman, Domenico.”
Ice coats his tone. “What do you mean?”
I tilt my head toward Alessia, as she tries desperately to gain his attention. “Because there is a part of her that remains, in that little girl. She loves sofreely, forgives mistakes without question or thought or fear, and that can only be because of how she has been raised. It is a wonderful gift to leave behind, I think. A small part of Beatrice, and her husband.”
Dom’s brow furrows as he looks down. He swallows, his throat bobbing.
I turn my attention back to the keyboard.
And the frustrated noises vanish, replaced by happier, flowing, nonsensical conversation.
When my phone goes off, I roll over to grab it, sitting up. “Nico.”
“Luc.” My second’s voice is strained, more than I’ve ever heard it. “Something was sent through. A message. For you.”
“For me—,”
I stop. Matteo would not have this number. Only the one I gave to Stefano, and thagt phone was lost in the Asante compound. “Send it through.”
He hesitates. “It’s not—,”
“Send it through.”
“What is it?” I don’t respond to Dom’s demand as the video loads. The hair lifts on the back of my neck as I press the screen.
No greeting awaits me. No words.
This is a different sort of message.
Dom is in front of me, his hand cupped over Alessia’s head. “The fuck isthat?”
In my hand, the screaming rings out. Endless screaming, over and over again. Thuds, cries. The video is dark, but I don’t need to see to know exactly what this message is.
Domenico pales. “Is that—,”
“The price,” I say numbly. The video ends, but I can still hear those fucking screams of agony, every single one burning into my soul and leaving scars behind.
Amie.
17 – Caterina
Iknow something is wrong as soon as we walk in.
The hall is silent. Luc sits at the bottom of the steps, his head in his hands.
Dante and I both burst into movement at the same time, Gio a step behind us.
“What happened—,”
“Is she—,”
“She’s fine.” We both spin, and the oxygen abandons my lungs at the sight of Dom, with Alessia in his arms. Stefano is beside him, his expression carefully controlled. I hold back as Dante goes to him, lifting her and running his hands over her as if checking for injuries.
“What’s happened,” I breathe. Not a question. Becausesomethinghas put that look on Luc’s face – that hollow, dead-eyed look as he lifts his head.
Slowly, he holds up a phone, his hand trembling as he presses the screen.
