A Madness of Crows: Mafia University #3

34. Day 90 – Caterina

Islump over the sink, my hands gripping the marble.

Real. This is real.

My head still feels like it’s full of cotton, but – clearer. Clearer than it’s been in days. Maybe… maybe longer.

Luc was here. And if Luc was real, maybe that means—

The door bangs open. Stefano stares at me. “Cat.”

Real.

I start to shake. My legs tremble so badly that I hold on to that sink in case I fall. “I thought you were dead.”

He takes a step, and then another, and then my arms are around his neck and he’s gripping me so fucking tightly, his face buried in my skin as he breathes me in. “Fuck, you scared me.”

“I saw you. I saw you dead – so many times.”

So many images, all of them twisted inside my head.

There’s anguish on his handsome face as he pulls back. Some light bruising lingers beside his eye. “I’m fine. But Cat – I’m so sorry.”

At the despair in his gaze, I stop. And the realization creeps in, untethered by the fog starting to drift out of my mind.

“Salvatore,” I whisper. “Does he… he has a black canopy. Above his bed.”

There’s no question in my voice. Stefano hesitates. The skin bunches around his eyes, tightening, as he nods.

That… that was real, too, then. The last, final, horrific step of my marriage.

His hands skate across my skin, not quite touching as he backs up, giving me space.

My memories are jagged and scattered, a mixture of horrors both real and not. I turn to the mirror. Examine myself. “I don’t… I don’t remember much.”

But I remember that black canopy so fucking clearly.

“Probably for the best, right?” My voice only shakes a little.

Until it happens again. They’re not giving me any more ketamine, the dosage tipping me dangerously close to death. Next time, I’ll remember everything.

My fists clench. Not in anger, but – need. A sudden, desperate wish for the poison they gave me, for more of it to take that possibility away.

It has me twisting away from the wild look on my face, back to Stefan with pleading eyes.

I don’t know what I’m asking for.

He steps into me, every move slow as he gives me time to move away. His arms slip around my back. Carefully.

“I’m going to fix this,” he murmurs. “I promise you.”

There is no fixing it. No changing it. But I don’t tell him that. I breathe him in, relishing in the feel of him here, safe and alive before I step back. “They’ll be looking for us.”

I’m surprised they’re not already.

“He’s with Cecile.” Dark eyes on my face.

Slowly, I nod. “Good.”

The noise of the party slams into me as we walk out. Everywhere I look, there’s people drinking, shouting, laughing, fucking.

Familiar faces catch my eye from every corner. The girls I have spent so many days with – a lot of them are here.

I keep moving, trying to find a quiet corner to stand as Stefano keeps pace, his arm keeping anyone from pushing into me. I scan the crowd—

My mouth opens. Forcing my legs to remain steady, I push past Stefano as I change direction, trying to pace my steps so it doesn’t attract attention.

We reach the bar, and I stop. Checking, to make sure I’m right.

“There’s a girl,” I mutter. “In a black dress. She has a… a scar on her face. Is she…,”

He knows what I mean as he scans the people waiting. His voice is gentle. “Real. She’s real.”

Oh, god.

My fingers twist together as I step up beside her. Stefano gives me a curious look. “You want a drink?”

I clear my throat. “Water, please.”

The person beside me stiffens. I tilt my head, just enough to take her in.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She stumbles at my furious hiss, a shocked noise slipping from her lips.

“I—,”

Frankie Costa. I want to throw my arms around her, this familiar face, but I hold myself back, focusing on the terror that she’s here in this hellhole. Again. “Did your father bring you back?”

If he did, I’ll—

I stop. You’ll do what, Caterina?

But she’s whispering. “I came to help, Cat. Are you okay?”

Frankie glances at my face, then. Looks away. “Don’t answer that.”

Stefano hands me the bottle, his gaze assessing. “Frankie. What are you doing here?”

There’s familiarity there, and concern. I look between them. “You know each other?”

Frankie studies the grooves etched into the black bar. “You asked me once if Stefano was involved with what happened to me.”

He stiffens. I brush against him in silent apology. “He took me home. And he… he told my father that I needed to come to campus. That it would be good training.”

As free as she can be.

There’s color in his face when I look up at him. “I should have done more. But… you’re back?”

She swallows. “Not for long. But – long enough. Is anyone watching us?”

I glance over my shoulder, assessing. Stefano does the same. “Not closely.”

My brow deepens as she sets her hand on the bar. She spreads out her fingers, wiggling them so the pretty bronze polish shines in the light. “Pretty, aren’t they?”

A memory flickers. Buried beneath months of grief. “They – they are.”

She slips a hand into her bag. And I feel her hand in mine, uncurling my fingers as she slips a bottle into them and closes my hand around it. “A gift for you. So you can do yours.”

I grip the nail polish tightly. “I knew I made the right decision, appointing you.”

She smiles. Just two women in pretty dresses, chatting at a bar. Her voice lowers. “And you all said I wasn’t a fighter.”

I was wrong. Because this is more of a fight than I ever thought it would be. “Thank you. Now get back to campus. Please.”

Frankie Costa smiles. “I have to go. But… I’ll see you soon, Caterina Corvo.”

My heart thunders as she slips from her stool and walks away through the crowd. When I glance up at Stefano, there’s so much confusion on his face that a small snort of laughter escapes me. I look around. “Can you help her get out again?”

“I doubt it,” he admits. “My reputation around here isn’t great, in case you didn’t notice. But I can try.”

I nod, leaning against him. I don’t want to be here any more. But the alternative is far, far worse.

So we stay where we are. I sip at the water and watch the crowd, searching for glimpses of Luc, of Frankie.

Of Domenico.

I don’t see him, nor Matteo.

Eventually, I start to falter, and Stefano looks over the crowd. There’s relief in his eyes when he looks down. “I’m taking you back to your room.”

Not his, with that black canopy.

We walk back slowly. Two guards split from the crowd and follow us as we keep a careful distance from each other.

Stefano opens my bedroom door, but he doesn’t follow me in, his brows knitting. “I… it was part of the deal. I’m not allowed in. I already broke it earlier.”

When I was lost to my own nightmares. My heart sinks, and I nod. “I’ll be fine.”

His eyes soften. “I’ll be outside, Cat.”

Just like he did when I first arrived.

My hands curl over that bottle, still tucked away inside my hand. “Goodnight, Stefan.”

“Goodnight, Caterina.”