Page 80 of Wrong Pawn. Right Capo.

He’s seated beside me, watching the telephone, like it’ll somehow disappear. He’s trying to mask it, but I can sense the nervousness… the fear. It’s almost 10 p.m. and there’s been nothing to show that Adriano has taken the bait. Only calls from Enzo, pleading to speak with the mayor. He’s been outside the gate since yesterday. The mayor hasn’t stopped taunting me with the live footage of Enzo’s broken figure on the monitor, begging to exchange his life for mine.

I’ve been trying to stay positive, but the constant pang in my heart is a brutal reminder of my doom. If Adriano doesn’t show up, I’m dead. I exhale heavily as images of my loved ones flash in my mind. Mom, Bella, Enzo, Annora... and Adriano. Somehow, he’s also managed to take over a permanent space in my head.

It’s supposed to be comforting, the last images I see before I die, but it’s not. I shake my head, training my eyes on the half-eaten plate of spaghetti they fed me, when the telephone rings. The mayor rises quickly to answer it.

“Oh, thank fucking God, Victor.” He releases a breath of relief, pinching the bridge of his nose as he picks up. “What happened?”

Victor? As in Victor Caughn?

The atmosphere is tense as the mayor listens for a while, then suddenly he bursts into anger.

“A dead man’s of no fucking use to me, Victor. What is wrong with you?!”

I feel the blood entirely draining from my face. Somehow, I know they’re talking about Adriano. The mayor goes silent for a while as Victor speaks on the other end, then hurls his chair across the room angrily.

“Explain what the fuck you mean by you can’t find him?! So you had him for more than four hours, Victor. More than four fucking hours!” He pinches his nose again, his breathing growing heavier by the second. “And you didn’t think to call?”

“Bullshit! You didn’t really think leaving a man like Bellandini alone in the cabin was a good idea, did you? Where the fuck did you go? Are you incapable of a simple task now, or are you now operating on your own volition?”

“…You know what? I have contacts in Nevada, they’ll search the area for him. We’ll save the rest of the fucking drama for when you get here,” he hisses, ends the call, then picks up his cellphone, barking orders into it, but I completely tune him out.

Has something happened to Adriano?

Tears of fury and helplessness blur my vision. Thinking of his death only worsens the ache in my head.

***

Hours pass, and I’m left alone in the room, dread twisting my stomach. No one comes in, no one answers, just the slow, suffocating tick of time pressing in as questions continue to swarm my head. Until suddenly the mayor returns, fuming, with four guards flanking him.

He’s on the phone, but his posture is tense. After dropping the call, he types rapidly on his phone and barks out orders to the guards. Before I know it, I’m hauled up, the ropes yanked from my body only to be bound tightly around my wrists.

“W-What’s happening?” I ask, staggering as they push me toward the door. Instead of a response, I’m met with more harsh shoves.

My heart races with fear as I’m handled roughly down the stairs and into a car with the mayor seated in the front and four heavy bodyguards behind me.

No one speaks as the car tears through the night with great speed. Nervousness wracks my spine as thoughts storm my mind. Are they taking me somewhere to kill me now?

The mayor isn’t a man who bluffs. Since they’re carting me out and Adriano is presumably still missing, it means he wants to kill me.

Sweat breaks out on my forehead, dripping down my neck, even in the fully air-conditioned vehicle.

“Mr. Mayor, y-you don’t have to do this,” I try, but my throat clenches.

“Shut up before I make you,” he responds without glancing at me, then turns to the man driving. “The plan remains the same. Once all this is over, there’s one last thing I need Victor for. After that, you get rid of him. He’s becoming a liability I can’t handle.”

They share a knowing look before silence fills the car again.

I shut my eyes, tears streaming down my face as I whisper my last prayers. Then I open them when we bump down an uneven access road and stop in front of a vast, decaying warehouse.

“Out,” the mayor snaps, and I’m dragged from the car, the cold river wind whipping through my torn dress. One of the guards forces me to my knees, before the rest form a tight circle around me, guns drawn. The others from a different vehicle scan the empty dock.

“He better not be playing games,” the mayor mutters, checking his watch.

The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the lapping of water against the pilings. Then, something snaps in the distance. From the tiny space between bodies, I see a figure emerging from the darkness.

A soft gasp escapes my lips as he walks slowly into the dim glow of a lone security light. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and walks with a predatory grace that I’ve come to know all too well. Adriano.

Relief floods me so intensely that I release a strangled cry. Suddenly, a guard yanks me upright. And my relief turns into fear. He came, but at what cost?