"There's a job," Valentino continues. "Something delicate. The kind of thing that requires your particular skills. Aria asked for you specifically."
Aria.
I can't say no to Aria.
"When?" I ask.
"Two weeks. Maybe three. Depends on how quickly we can gather intelligence. And on how soon you'll get better." He pauses. "You sound tired, Dante."
"I'm fine."
"You're lying."
I don't respond.
Valentino sighs. He's known me since I was a kid. Watched me grow into whatever the fuck I am now. He doesn't push. That's not his way.
"Get better," he says. "I'll send details when I have them."
I've never been religious.
Not even when I was a kid. Not even when my mother used to drag me to mass every Sunday and make me kneel on the hard wooden pews until my knees ached.
If there's a God, he's got a sick sense of humor.
Because this timing?—
Marina wants me out of her life. I knew that. I've always known that.
And now Valentino calls.
Asking me to go to Italy. Far away from Denver. Far away from the U.S. Far away from her.
The best timing in the fucking timeline.
"I'll go," I say.
The words taste like ash.
"Good." Valentino sounds relieved. "We'll talk soon."
I don't tell him I might not live until then.
"Yeah," I say. "Soon."
I hang up.
The phone feels heavy in my hand. I set it on my chest and stare at the ceiling again.
Italy.
I could disappear there. Lose myself in the work.
And Marina?—
Marina would be free.
Free of me.
