He said to stay. He said he’d come back.
“Time’s up.”
I open the door.
The guards flank me as we move through the corridors. One ahead, two behind. Every staff member we pass averts their eyes.
The villa has changed. The warmth I’d started to feel in these halls, the safety I’d begun to believe in… gone. The ancient stone feels cold now. Hostile. Like the building itself knows something I don’t.
“Where are we going?”
“Just following orders.”
“Elio said to wait for him here.”
“Plans changed. He needs you with him.”
We exit through the front entrance, setting sun bathing the world in orange and crimson. A black SUV idles in the drive, engine rumbling, windows tinted so dark I can’t see inside.
This doesn’t feel right.
But what choice do I have? Fight three armed men? Run? To where?
The lead guard opens the back door. I climb in.
One guard is already sitting in the back, the other climbs in after me, caging me in. I’m wedged between them before I can process what’s happening. Their bulk presses against my shoulders, hot and suffocating despite the air conditioning blasting too cold. Gun oil and cheap cologne burn my nostrils as the door slams shut.
The locks engage with a heavy thunk that vibrates through my bones.
Trapped.
The SUV pulls away, and I crane my neck to watch the villa recede through the tinted glass. The fortress that held me captive. The prison that became something else. The place where I chose him.
It shrinks and shrinks until the road curves, and it’s gone.
At first, I recognize the route. The winding coastal road toward Palermo, the same one Elio and I took when he took me shopping, then to the restaurant.
Then we turn. Away from the city. Away from anything familiar.
“Where are we going?”
Silence.
“I asked you a question.”
“Not your concern.”
The guard to my left shifts, his hand moving to rest on his thigh. Near his gun.
Is this Cicero?My mind races through possibilities, each worse than the last.Did he find out Elio broke the engagement? Is this punishment? Is Elio?—
I can’t finish that thought.
The guards are tense. I feel it in the rigidity of their shoulders, see it in the way they check the mirrors every few seconds, catch the glances they exchange over my head.
The driver takes another sharp turn, smaller road now, trees pressing close on both sides, branches scraping the roof like fingers. We’re heading into the hills, away from the coast, away from everything.
Wrong direction. Wrong energy. Every instinct I’ve honed from years of learning to read dangerous situations is screaming at me.
