Didn’t he?
And with that…
The darkness pulled me under.
Chapter 39
Rav
The SUV lurchedto a stop at the end of the narrow alley my contact, Luigi, had guided us to, which opened onto a closed street. All around us, nothing but bodies. A solid wall of people between us and forward momentum, celebrating what none of them knew could be their last night.
“Your buddy’s directions were spot on.” Zac pointed to the right, to the round castle rising from the water. “That’s your target. Time to head on foot. I’ll send the directions to the other teams.”
I shoved open the door and stepped into chaos. The crowd immediately pressed in, forcing me back against the vehicle. A woman with a child on her shoulders pushed past, the kid waving glow sticks that nearly caught me in the face. Three twenty-somethings squeezed through a gap that shouldn’t have existed, their laughter slurred with alcohol.
“Stay close,” I told Brooke, though the crowd had already pressed her against my side.
We pushed forward, turning sideways to hurry between groups. My shoulders created space, but every step was a negotiation. Someone’s elbow caught my ribs. A man gesturedwildly, telling a story, and I had to duck to avoid his emphatic hand.
The music hit from every direction—techno from our left, traditional Neapolitan songs from a restaurant terrace, a drum band farther down the street. A stilts-walker dressed as Neptune towered above us, forcing the crowd to flow around him like water around a rock. His trident trailed blue ribbons that kept getting caught on people’s heads.
“Permesso, permesso,” people called, trying to move through.
Street vendors lined the closed road, selling everything imaginable—glow sticks, flags, spinning LED toys—while food carts pumped out smells of fried dough, grilled meat, and a hundred sweet smells that reminded me I hadn’t eaten since Mario’s villa.
A vendor selling theatrical masks caught my eye. Plague doctor masks, Colombina masks, and cheap plastic superhero masks for the kids. But also simple black silk domino masks and dark cloaks.
“You didn’t bring cash, did you?” I asked Brooke.
She swung her pack around to her front. “You didn’t?”
Working for a covert group that acted like a heist crew meant I never carried a wallet while on a job. At least, not a wallet with my real name or information inside.
She pulled out a wad of euros, pointed to two black masks and cloaks. The vendor, an older woman with shrewd eyes, named a price that was definitely the tourist rate.
We paid without haggling, then pulled them on. The mask covered from my forehead to just above my mouth. The cloak was cheap polyester that would tear if I moved too fast, but it hid my torn clothes, and if I hunched down, it might even conceal my breadth.
“How do I look?” Brooke asked, adjusting her mask.
“Like every other tourist.”
“Perfect.”
We merged into the crowd of bodies who were dancing and touring the city. The castle sat on its tiny island like something out of a fairy tale—medieval walls lit by spotlights cycling through purple, gold, and green.
The couple ahead of us stopped to take a selfie, causing a minor pileup. Someone cursed in what sounded like German. A British voice complained about the crowds. Italian phrases floated past—most too fast for me to catch, but I heard “fuochi d’artificio” enough times to know everyone was talking about the fireworks.
Brooke’s hand found mine in the crush. “If it’s not up there…”
I leaned over to kiss her temple, and we nearly collided with another couple. “It makes too much sense not to be.”
It had to be okay. Because if it wasn’t, I’d lose her again, and there was no way in hell that was happening. We crossed the small causeway to the castle, slowing at the entrance. The stone archway was barely ten feet wide, with dozens of people squeezing through. Someone’s elbow dug into my hip. A woman’s perfume—too much of it—made me cough.
Then we were through, spilling into a courtyard where the crowd spread out. More food vendors had set up shop, with seats and small temporary tables scattered around the space. Servers performed miracles, threading through gaps that shouldn’t exist while balancing trays of drinks.
“There,” Brooke said quietly.
I followed her gaze. A man in a security uniform stood by an information kiosk, but everything about him was wrong. Real security faced out, watching for trouble. This guy kept looking up toward the castle’s highest level, where the old cannons would be.
