We lost them. The car was too fast, and I drove like a woman possessed. We crossed the border into Germany an hour ago, using a minor road Alaric knew from his smuggling days. We ditched the car in a forest service road and walked three miles to a small village. We are now in a cheap motel room, waiting for nightfall.
Alaric is asleep. He passed out the moment we hit the bed. I check his shoulder. It’s bad. Red streaks. Hot to the touch. He needs a hospital. A real one. Not a first aid kit. But we have money now. Millions. We can buy a private doctor.
I sit by the window, watching the rain fall on the German countryside. I remember the envelope. The one he gave me in the vault.
I pull it out of my pocket. It is thick. Cream paper. I open it. Inside is a deed.Property:Villa Diodati. Lake Como, Italy.Owner:Elodie Graves.
Graves. He put it in my name. Withhislast name.
And a letter. Handwritten.
Elodie,
If you are reading this, we survived the vault. Or I didn't, and you are rich.This house belonged to my grandmother. It is the only place I was ever happy. It has a music room with a view of the water.I bought it back for you. Not as a cage. But as a sanctuary.If we make it, we will live there. If I don't... go there. Play the piano. And know that you were the only song I ever truly heard.
Yours,A.
I fold the letter. I look at him sleeping on the bed. The monster. The butcher. The man who gave me a stolen name and a stolenlife. I touch the ring on my finger—I put his mother’s ring on my thumb because it was too big.Villa Diodati.The place where Mary Shelley wroteFrankenstein. A story about a monster created by obsession.
I smile. It fits.
I stand up. I pack the bag. I check the gun. One bullet left. I wake him up. "Alaric."
He stirs. "Hmm?"
"Wake up. We're going to Italy."
"Again?" he groans.
"To Lake Como," I say. "To our house."
He opens his eyes. He sees the letter in my hand. "You opened it."
"Yes. Graves."
He smirks. "It has a nice ring to it."
"Get up, husband," I say, pulling him to his feet. "We have a home to claim."
He leans on me. We walk out into the rain. We are battered. We are exhausted. We are criminals. But we are going home.
And God help anyone who tries to stop us.
CHAPTER 34
THE SANCTUARY
POV: Elodie Fray
Location:Villa Diodati, Lake Como, Italy
Track:Experience– Ludovico Einaudi
Sensory:The scent of wisteria and old stone, the echo of footsteps in an empty hall, the coolness of marble against feverish skin.
Mood:Gothic Peace & Looming Dread.
The Villa Diodati does not look like a home. It looks like a fortress built by a poet to keep the world out.
