Luca kicked him. The movement was fast and vicious. Valerio toppled, and the strikes continued. Valerio balled up, trying to protect his head and middle. But Luca was in a frenzy, and a few of the blows landed badly—one on his head, near his broken cheekbone, and another on his cracked ribs. At last, Luca stomped on his wounded leg. Valerio roared in pain.
When Luca had exhausted himself, he stood back, breathing hard.
“Even a dumb fucking animal knows better than to run towards danger,” he said.
Then he swiveled around as a headlight beam cut across them, and a new sound: a car engine and the crunch of tires on gravel.
It pulled to a stop, and a door opened, then Lazarov’s voice in broken Italian: “What the fuck are you doing, Errichiello? He’s no use to us dead.”
Valerio’s head was ringing, the world closing in around the edges.
“Not now,” he said, struggling to stay conscious.
Everything faded to black.
—
He was wet, dripping. Someone had tossed water on him. He tasted it on his chapped lips.
Gradually, he became aware of the sounds of screaming.
His eyelids were heavy, but he forced them open.
She was centimeters away, face twisted with crying, tears streaking her cheeks, dark eyes wide and full of terror.
“Valerio!” she shrieked. “Valerio!”
He’d been a thinking man once, full of plans and observations. He’dhad ideas. But there was no more strategy left. Only terror. It overwhelmed him. He was drowning. Desperate.
“Ravenna! No!”
He reached for her, but someone grabbed Ravenna by her hair and dragged her back. She screamed and fought, clawing at the man.
He punched her, and she bent over, coughing.
“Ravenna,” Valerio called. “Look at me! Stay calm. I’ll get us out of this.”
“There you are,” said Lazarov, grabbing Valerio by the collar and yanking him upright. “Time to answer some questions. You know this woman? Good. I found her at your apartment. Who is she? Girlfriend? Wife? Sister?”
“What do you want?” Valerio demanded.
“Tell me the truth, Alfieri. That’s all I’m asking. The truth.”
Slow as he was, weak with blood loss and infection and pain, Valerio knew better than to tell Lazarov the truth. The truth was desperate and stupid and pathetic and would get them killed. The truth was: He’d gotten himself into this mess, and managed to drag Ravenna into it, too.
The truth was: Nobody knew where he was. Nobody was coming to save them.
“Alright,” Valerio said. “Don’t hurt her. What do you want?”
“How do you know my name?”
“They gave me your dossier,” Valerio lied.
“Who?”
“They don’t exactly hand over their ID cards,” Valerio said.
“Why? What does he want you to do?”
