Bes glances back at me without meeting my eyes. “The town of Breno.”
Before I can ask more questions, Anders yanks on the wheel, the car veering down a narrow street in the direction of the castle and hugging close to the building beside us. The uneven cobblestone rattles the car, and I’m forced to dig my fingers into Bes’s leather seat for balance, teeth chattering. Bes sucks in a painful breath, his wound likely stinging from all the jostling.
Definitely not heading out of town.
The road appears to dead-end at some high hedges, but Anders expertly maneuvers us around them. The distance between each one leaves barely enough room for him to wrench the wheel back and forth.Where is he taking us?
“Is this normal?” I ask, surprised when Bes confirms it with a single, pained ‘yes.’
After we straighten out, the car transfers off the cobblestone and onto something metal; the wheels make agung-gungsound as we drive over it.
Coming to a jarring stop mere inches from the stone wall, the breaks squawk in protest.
We sit in silence for some time, surrounded by thick greenery. I’m almost afraid to ask what we’re waiting for.Maybe for the wall in front of us to move, I consider flippantly, but keep it to myself.
“How the hell are we supposed to get to Arturo’s house from here?”
Not as if they’re going to give me a straight answer.
“We never said it was a house,” Cec reminds me. “But Arturo does live here.”
I think back to all the times this Arturo’s place was mentioned, and I believe he’s right: not once did they call it a house.
A moment later, the gentle whirring of machinery I’m almost certain isn’t originating from the car engages, and the metal ground we’ve driven onto begins to slope downwards. My grip on the seat tightens and panic inflates inside my chest.Jesus Christ, what now?
Bes decides now is a good time to step out of the car and take stock of our surroundings. Grasping his bad arm loosely, he stands completely at ease, gazing up at the castle and then at the hedges behind us. All while the floor continues shifting beneath him.
Eventually, the metal trap door opens up into an underground cavern. From what I can tell, it’s barely large enough for this car to fit inside.
And it’s pitch black.
“We’re not going down there, are we?” I wonder, wishing my voice was stronger.What do they plan to do with me in there?
Bes winces as he slides back into the car and softly shuts his door.
“The flag is flying high, and we don’t appear to have been followed,” he tells us, voice strained.
Anders nods at Bes’s assessment. Neither Cec nor Anders reply to my earlier concern.
“Of course we’re going down there.” I shrug in response to my own unease, accepting my fate. I do, however, refuse to remove my firmly-planted grip on Bes’s seat. “Because why not? You have secret passcodes and a network of spies and fancy yachts at your disposal—it wouldn’t be complete without an underground hideout with a hidden entrance.”
“Impressed?” Cec asks.
I glance over at him. “I am, actually. But you weren’t being facetious when you told me you lied to me.”
“More like bent the truth,” Cec claims.
Bes shakes his head. “No, we’ve certainly lied.”
I grimace.What did you expect to happen?Bes said, flat out, that they would lie to me to protect others. It’s another thing to be faced with the direct consequences of it. I know, of course, that they’ve been lying about some things, but how many lies have there been? A handful? Dozens?
Did they steal Nonna’s ring off of Arturo’s dead corpse so that I’d be sure to trust them?
I take a deep breath.Pull yourself together.What would be the purpose of them dragging me partway across the world and putting their own lives in danger if they only wanted to hurt me? Even if they needed me alive, they could’ve easily tied up on the boat and never let me see the light of day.
Still, I don’t like not knowing what’s real and what isn’t.
“But, as I said before, not about anything that would’ve put you in danger,” Bes finishes.
