I had lost Carlo. The man I loved was gone, and I hadn’t even gotten the chance to say goodbye. I never told him how I felt. And now… it was too late.
I don’t know how long I sat there, rooted to the spot, until a warm hand touched my shoulder. I looked up through the blur of my tears and saw Giorgio.
He was speaking, but the words were muffled, lost in the haze of my grief. Gently, he helped me up and guided me inside. Without a word, he led me to the fireplace, sat me down, and wrapped a blanket around my shoulders.
“Pull yourself together, Emily,” he said firmly. “We need to get out of here.”
I grabbed his hand, my voice shaking. “I didn’t get to see him one last time. Didn’t get to say goodbye. Didn’t get to tell him I love him.” My tears spilled over again as I sobbed, “And now I’ve lost him.”
Giorgio cursed under his breath, then placed a steady hand on my shoulder. “This might be hard to hear, but I think it’s better this way. Your words might have distracted him, pulled his focus at the wrong time. Don’t lose hope yet. No one can predict the outcome of a battle, not with absolute certainty. Giuliano may have home advantage, but Don Carlo’s no ordinary man. Let’s get out of here and hope the night ends differently.”
“But you said his chances were slim.”
“There’s still a chance, no matter how small. Let’s hold onto that. If we’re going to be wrong, let it be because we believed in something.”
I clung to his words like a lifeline. “You really think there’s still hope?”
“Yes,” he said, without the slightest hesitation. “I believe in Don Carlo, and in our men.”
Despite everything, a choked laugh escaped me. It came out jagged, somewhere between a cry and a breathless laugh. Giorgio stood and pulled me up gently.
“This place isn’t safe anymore. We need to leave soon.”
“But how will we know if they made it back?”
He gave me a look like I’d asked if fire was hot. “Something called a phone. Now hurry. We’re out in ten.”
I didn’t pack. I didn’t take anything except my ID. I wanted to believe I’d be back by tomorrow. That Carlo would walk through the door alive.
That night became the longest of my life. I sat in silence beside the tall window,watching the rain streak down over Rome. Christmas lights blinked along the quiet streets, too bright for how dark I felt inside.
I tried not to picture Carlo covered in blood. Instead, I forced myself to remember the warmth of his arms around me. The way he’d grown his hair out because I liked it. The way he kissed me. The way he breathed against my skin.
But nothing eased the ache. I didn’t sleep. Not even for a second.
As soon as the first faint light of dawn broke the darkness, I rushed to Giorgio’s room. He was still in the same clothes from the night before, sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes red with exhaustion. His phone lay beside him, screen dark, untouched.
He looked up as I entered and spoke before I could ask. “No news yet.”
I sat down next to him quietly. We both stared at the phone in silence, the minutes stretching on painfully until the morning sky turned a pale blue.
Then, the phone buzzed.
Giorgio glanced at me, hesitated for a second, then picked it up. I stopped breathing, too scared to look. My pulse thundered, drowning out all other sounds. When Giorgio finally started to breathe again, I didn’t need to see the message. I exhaled sharply, tears spilling down my cheeks, this time from joy.
“They did it,” he said, taking my hand. “They’re alive.”
“What about Brando?”
“He’s in rough shape, but he’ll make it.”
“Thank God,” I whispered, overwhelmed by the wave of relief crashing over me.
I jumped to my feet. “Come on. Let’s go back.”
Giorgio leaned back with an irritating amount of calm. “They won’t be back for a few hours. I haven’t slept or eaten. I’m not going anywhere until I do both.”
I scowled. “You can do that at home.”
