"Get ready, we'll be heading out soon," he says, back still facing the sink. I raise my brow.
"Where are we going?" I ask, not liking the fact that his back is turned to me like he's trying to hide something in his expression.
"We have to meet someone," he answers, the sound of the running water muffling the tension in his voice.
"Can you be any clearer?" I snap. I don't like being kept in the dark.
Finn turns to me and smiles. "Just get ready."
"Who's this someone? Will they be able to help us?" I ask, because that's the only thing I can think of. "Yeah," Finn says and I feel a bit relieved, but something about his answer still keeps me on edge.
The tires of Finn's BMW 3-Series screech against the gravel as he parks his car. A greenhouse? I take a look at it and back at our luggage before I unbuckle my seatbelt. I kind of enjoyed the peace of the safe house, but staying there forever isn't an option.
Finn unbuckles his seat belt. "Let's go," he says and steps out of the car. I step out too, and we close the doors simultaneously.
Finn walks to my side and grabs my hand, tugging me slightly towards the greenhouse entrance. I follow him quietly, enjoying the warmth of his hand in mine. The scent of plants and damp earth hits me the moment we step inside. I pause and take it all in. Shafts of golden light filter through the glass panels above, bouncing off the leaves.
We walk further in. Moisture clings to the air, laced with the smell of blooming jasmine, fresh soil and something citrusy I can't place. The path beneath our feet is narrow, laid with moss-covered stones, leading between beds of vegetables and flowers growing in organized chaos.
I run my hand over a leaf as we pass. It's beautiful here, and it makes me wonder who exactly we'll be meeting. I steal a glance at Finn, but he's focused ahead. He raises his watch to his eyes.
"Is this person late?" I ask, hoping he at least tells me something, any detail will suffice as long as it quenches thiscuriosity in me. "I guess so," he answers, still looking ahead. The tension in the air is high, too high. Who are we meeting, and how will they help us?
I glance at Finn. He's wearing a black shirt and pants. "Why are all your clothes so dark?" I blurt out. "What do you have against colored clothes?"
Finn's brows furrow before a small smirk tugs at his lips. "How do you know I don't have colored clothes?" he asks with a raised brow. Busted. I fold my lips in my mouth and tilt my head to the side.
He raises his brows. I groan. "Fine, I went through your closet. Happy?" Finn chuckles, and that sound makes my heart warm. Since breakfast, he's been on edge. He's about to speak when I hear that voice, the voice I could recognize even from a distance.
"Gianna," Vito calls, his voice sending a cold chill down my spine as he appears from the direction Finn has been looking at. He looks sturdy as ever, his black suit is pressed to perfection, his hair perfectly styled, and his hands are in his pockets as he inches closer.
I swallow, my eyes flickering to Finn. He's not surprised. Then it hits me. Vito is the mystery person we're supposed to meet. What is Finn thinking? How will Vito help?
"You don't look excited to see me," Vito says, his eyes flickering to my hand in Finn's before landing on my face.
Finn lets go of my hand, and I feel an ache in my chest. "You kept your word," Vito says to Finn. Finn's jaw is clenched as he stares daggers at Vito, but Vito only smirks.
"I didn't think you were going to show up either," Finn bites back, his tone laced with venom.
"It's a matter concerning my dear sister," Vito's eyes flicker from Finn to me and settle back on Finn. I almost gag at thewords 'dear sister.' Since when did he care so deeply about me, and more baffling—when did Finn contact Vito?
"Finn," I call, but he ignores me. His focus is on Vito. What is he planning on doing?
"Declan knows she's the mole, and he wants her dead. You need to pull her out and end this game."
"Finn!" I yell, but he doesn't budge. He doesn't even look my way.
Vito narrows his gaze at him, and I'm sure my stare can drill into his face. "Are you listening!" Finn raises his voice. "Declan wants war. I don't want it. So, you have to pull Gianna out."
"No!" I yell, this time louder. They won't act like I'm not standing right here as they decide my fate. Not again. "You don't speak for me, Finn."
"You heard the Irish boy, Gianna. Game's over," Vito says. His voice is flat, but his eyes don't leave mine. There's something underneath it, something tight and unspoken, but I'm too furious to care what it is. He's not who I'm concerned about.
I turn to face Finn. "What do you think will happen if you return without me? Declan will have your head," I try to speak some sense into him. "I'm not going anywhere," I say, meaning every single word.
Finn has stood for me, vouched for me, and protected me. Even right now, he's doing just that. I can't let him risk his life. What kind of person would that make me? And most importantly, I couldn't bear the thought of something bad happening to him.
Finn looks down at me, his eyes softening for a fleeting second, but I can also see the resolve in them. The kind that says he's made up his mind.
