My feet falter.
The urge to turn back crashes into me so hard, it’s almost physically painful. To run to that light, and to him, to believe that staying would be easier than leaving is almost enough to override the fear that urged me to flee in the first place
It would be easy to try and trust Dante at his word. It would be simpler to believe that all things that could go wrong have already come to pass. But life is never that simple. Not in my world.
I can’t risk it.
Not if it turns out he’s wrong.
I turn away before I can change my mind, tightening my grip around my son and forcing my legs to keep moving into the rain, the dark, into the unknown that lies before us. Leaving the glow of Dante’s world behind me like a dying star for the second time in my life is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
Only this time, I’m knowingly carrying our child with me too.
By the time I get Luca and myself over the wall and down the narrow road that snakes toward the village, my legs are screaming. My arms tremble from holding him for so long, his weight familiar but relentless, dragging at my shoulders as the rain slicks everything it touches.
My boots slip on the wet stone, barely catching me before I lose my footing altogether. Water streams down my face and into my eyes, soaking through my clothes until the fabric clings against my skin.
My focus narrows until there’s nothing left but the road in front of me.
Forward, forward, don’t stop, don’t look back.
The words repeat in my head like a chant, like a lifeline. Every instinct I have is screaming to keep moving, to put distance between us and the villa slowly growing smaller behind us. Lucaclings to me tightly, his small body bouncing slightly with every step. His breath hitches against my collarbone.
“It’s okay. Mama’s got you,” I murmur into his ear even as my lungs burn.
I don’t know if I’m saying it for him or for myself.
The road curves sharply as it descends, hugging the coastline. The drop-off to one side disappears into the dark, crashing surf below, the sound muffled by the rain but still loud enough to remind me how little room there is for mistakes.
One wrong step and everything ends here.
Up ahead, faint patches of light begin to appear. Their warm, golden glow bleeds through rain and mist. A bar, from what I remember, still open at this late hour. A handful of streetlamps line the square at the base of the hill.
The village.
Relief surges through me so hard, my vision blurs.
Once we reach those lights, I can blend in and find someone to help us. That fragile hope is why I don’t notice the car following us at first.
I don’t hear the low hum of the engine behind us, nor do I notice the way it slows when I push myself harder down the hill. My mind is too fixed on the lights ahead, on the promise they represent.
It isn’t until we reach the base of the hill where the road flattens and the rain-slick pavement widens just enough to give way to oncoming traffic that something cold slides down my spine.
I glance back right as a pair of headlights flares to light, nearly blinding me.
“Stronzo,” I mutter, cupping a hand over my eyes to shield them.
Luca shifts in my arms, sensing the change in me. “Mama?”
I turn forward again, forcing my feet to keep moving even as dread coils tightly in my gut. The lights of the village are right there. I just have to make it a little farther. I don’t realize until it’s too late that we were never meant to in the first place.
The ambush happens too fast for me to react.
Tires shriek against wet pavement as the SUV swerves violently, cutting off the narrow strip of road ahead of me. I stumble back instinctively, my heart slamming so hard in my chest that I nearly choke on the feeling.
A gasp is ripped from my throat when all four doors are thrown open.
I try to turn, I try to run, but I don’t get the chance to.
