I don't know how long it goes on for — the shouting, the squeal of tires on asphalt as other cars arrive on the scene, the sharp deafening cracks of gunfire that sound nothing like they do in the movies.
I recite a monologue I learned at school when I played Rosalind in As You Like It. My mind snags on umber-colored coat, or is it cloak? Why does it bother me that I can’t remember?
As suddenly as the chaos erupted, it screeches to a halt. An unnerving silence settles over everything. I stay on the floor, hands pressed over my head. Then the door behind me opens.
A hand grabs me and I'm pulled out of the car. I spin around, mouth open, ready to scream. Relief swamps me when I recognize Tomasz. He has a gun in his hand, pointed at the ground. It looks like something soldiers use in a combat zone.
He holds a hand out to me.
"Signora Volante. We need to move you. Can you walk?"
It's not until he asks that I realize I'm shaking.
"Signora, can you hear me?"
When I don't answer, he curses, picks me up and drops me over his shoulder. Outraged, I thump his back but it makes no impact. I push myself up to survey the scene around us.
There are several bullet-riddled cars. I don't know whether they belong to Damiano's men or his enemies.
We pass Elio who's yelling at someone, telling them to keep their noses out until all their people are clear. Is he talking to the police? We're in a quiet area but that ruckus must have been heard for miles around.
I scan for Damiano, wondering why he sent Tomasz for me instead of coming himself. Perhaps he's hurt. It takes me a moment to find him. He isn't injured from what I can see.
There's a man on his knees in front of him, hands raised, saying something I can't hear over the strange whooshing in my ears. It's obvious from the frantic movement of his lips that he's begging. Damiano's face is a blank. No anger, no fear, no hesitation. I’ve seen him cold before but this is different. He’s toying with his victim, listening to his pleas but he already knows what he’s doing to do. The air of brutal calculation in him sends a shiver down my spine.
Without hesitation, he raises his gun and pulls the trigger. The man jerks violently, his whole body going rigid for a fraction of a second, hands still raised, frozen. Then he drops heavily to the ground all at once, and doesn't move again. Damiano turns. His eyes meet mine and his jaw twitches.
"Get her out of here." He’s angry. It’s the first time he’s shown emotion since the ambush began.
Tomasz strides to a waiting SUV and drops me onto the back seat. He gets in next to me, his gun across his lap. A man I don't recognize drives us away.
The whole way back to the palazzo, Tomasz watches me with caution, as if he thinks I might throw myself out of the moving car. I'm tempted. Right now I want to run and never stop.
The same thought keeps repeating itself. I knew what Damiano was and I chose to ignore it. I let him get close, even though I understood his world was dangerous. Does that make me a bad person? To care for a man who can kill without blinking? Does it make me complicit?
A coldness spreads through me so intense I fear I'll never be warm again. What happened on that street will weigh on me forever.
When we get to the house, I scramble out of the car before Tomasz can manhandle me again. I walk inside, aware of him at my back, and meet Lina in the hallway. She opens her arms and though I don't want closeness right now, I step into her embrace, allowing her to whisper words that don't penetrate the numbness I feel.
"I'll take care of her," Lina tells Tomasz as she steers me toward the stairs.
"Not his room," I murmur as we walk along the corridor.
She takes me instead to the room next to his, the one that was mine before. The soft femininity of it soothes me a little.
"What can I do?" Lina asks. "A brandy, perhaps?"
"No. Thank you." It's better to keep a clear head. "A bath, maybe."
"Let me run it for you."
Though I'd rather be on my own I nod. She disappears into the bathroom. A moment later the water is running and the scent of lavender fills the air. When Lina emerges a few minutes later, I offer a weak smile.
"I'll be fine." She looks unsure. "But I'd love a hot chocolate, if you could make me one."
She nods. When she leaves I feel like I can breathe again. I'm grateful that she cares but I need space to think. I strip off my clothes and get into the bathtub. It's large enough for me to stretch out. The warm water laps over my skin and I close my eyes.
An image of the spiderweb on the rear window enters my mind. I've been in that car a dozen times and it never once occurred to me it was a moving fortress. I think about the man on his knees, that moment where he seemed neither alive nor dead, suspended between two worlds. I'm not sure I'll ever stop seeing it. It’s clear to me now.
