Chapter 28
Islowly pace the length of the small studio apartment, my footsteps echoing off the bare walls. The musty smell of mildew and dust fills the air. Marco obviously hasn’t been here in a while. My eyes take in the sparse furnishings—a few blankets draped over the windows and dilapidated furniture that looks scavenged from a curbside. It’s not surprising that Marco has a hideaway like this prepared. In our world, survival depends on always being ready for anything. I’m grateful he has a place where we can remain hidden while he assesses our danger, but I hope we don’t have to stay here long.
Gia lies on a thin mattress on the far side of the room, attempting to nap. Her restless movements tell me it’s just as uncomfortable as it looks. “Are you hungry?” I ask, desperate for any distraction.
She sits up and looks at me with tired eyes. “Do you really think there’s any food in this place?”
I move into the efficiency kitchen and take a closer look. The cupboards are practically empty, save for a few canned goods that look far from appetizing. Marco didn’t stock this place very well, so my guess is he never intended it for an extended use.
I sigh. “I guess not,” I mutter and then suggest, “I could run out and grab us something.”
Gia’s dark eyes are pools of worry, reflecting the concern for our friends and our situation. She shakes her head before standing and crossing over to one of the covered windows, pulling the blanket aside for a moment to peek out. “No, that’s okay. I’m not even sure I could eat anything right now.”
“Hey, everything’s going to be okay,” I assure her, but I can hear how unconvincing my words are.
She doesn’t respond and instead tosses her jacket onto the soiled couch before sitting on top of it. She’s a fortress of strength. I’ve never met a woman like her.
My heartbeat quickens when a sudden ring fills the space. My phone. It dances across the wooden coffee table in front of me, the sound grating against my nerves. I snatch it up, the color draining from Gia’s face as she watches me. The caller ID reads Dante.
I flash the phone screen toward her so she can read the name, my thumb hovering over the green icon. I press it, lifting the phone to my ear. “Dante,” I breathe out, barely above a whisper.
“Ni—Nico . . .” His voice cracks.
“Hey, man, where the fuck are you?” I ask. My grip on my phone tightens.
“Can’t... I—” I pull the phone away briefly as sharp static hits my ear and then a muffled curse. He’s breaking up or breaking down; it’s hard to tell which.
“Dante!” I bark in frustration. “I can’t hear you. Where are you? What’s happened?”
Gia stands directly in front of me now. She’s watching, trying to decipher what is being said.
“Everything’s fucked,” he gasps, his breathing ragged. “I can’t—”
“Can’t what?” I snap. I hate the desperation clawing at my throat. I can tell the sound of it is alarming Gia even more.
“I can’t fix this,” he chokes out. The line buzzes with silence, a void stretching between us.
“Fix what? Talk to me!” I’m shouting now, words ricocheting off the walls of the safe house. Gia’s eyes are wide.
“Fuck. Oh fuck, what am I going to do?” It’s quickly becoming clear that Dante isn’t listening to a word I’m saying. He’s spiraling out of control in his own head.
“Christ. Hold yourself together!” I shout. “You’re not making any sense.”
“It’s too late...” Dante’s words are like jigsaw pieces with jagged edges that don’t fit together.
“Too late for what?” I press the phone so hard against my ear it hurts, desperate for answers.
“Nico,” Gia says, waving a hand at me. “Put it on speaker.”
I hesitate, but then my thumb obeys, pressing the screen. Dante’s ragged breathing fills the room, a ghostly echo of distress.
“Hey Dante, it’s me, Gia. We’re both here, okay? Can you talk to us? Tell us what’s going on.” Gia says, her tone firm yet soothing.
“Gia, I’m so sorry. Everything is so fucked, and it’s all my fault.” Dante’s voice is shaky.
“Take a breath, man. Slow down.” I interject.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Dante mutters as he continues his downward spiral.
“Hey, sweetie, I want you to focus on my voice. Okay?” Gia’s command is velvet-wrapped steel. “You’re safe, alright. It’s just us here. I need you to talk to us.”
“Safe?” Dante lets out a maniacal laugh, a sound that scrapes at my insides. “Nothing’s safe, and it’s all my fault.”
I look at Gia and mouth the words, “What the fuck are we supposed to do?”
She lifts a finger to her lips to silence me before she continues. “Dante, stay with us,” she pleads. “Is this about you talking to Smitty? We know you didn’t mean for any of this to happen. All we care about is that you’re safe. I need you to calm down so we can sort all this out together.”
“I can’t even fucking think...” he wheezes, but there’s a shift, a subtle pause as if he’s finally starting to hear us.
“Okay, that’s okay. We got you. Where are you right now?” Gia’s voice doesn’t waver.
“I don’t know. I’m in my car, just driving around,” he answers, and I’m relieved to hear him finally make at least a little sense.
“Good, good,” she replies. “Now, I want you to listen very carefully. I’m texting you an address from my phone.” Her fingers fly over the phone screen in her hands, dispatching the vital information before I can even react. “It’s a place that’s safe. Nobody knows about it. I want you to come straight here, and we’ll figure all of this out. Do you understand?”
After a brief silence, Dante’s raw voice comes across the line, a mix of remorse and fear. “Yeah, I understand. I really am sorry I got you all in this mess.”
“Hey, don’t be sorry, just get here,” she responds firmly.
“Okay, on my way,” he answers before disconnecting.
She turns to me, a flicker of concern in her eyes. “What the hell happened to him? He sounds so scared.”
I nod in agreement, but a nagging thought refuses to remain silent. “Yeah, I know. But, um, Marco really didn’t want you to tell anyone where we were, especially Dante.”
“Yeah, well, Marco will just have to understand, won’t he?” she says defiantly. “Dante clearly needs us right now, and I’m not just going to let him stay out there in his current state.”
I can see the resolve in Gia’s eyes. Nothing I can say will change her mind that she did the right thing, and at this point, there is no undoing it. As much as I’m worried about Dante, I could never have been the one to go against Marco’s wishes. He enlisted me to keep Gia safe, and that is my sole focus. However, there is a slight sense of relief that Gia has taken it upon herself to throw Dante a lifeline.
As we wait for Dante’s arrival, I can’t shake the thought that this isn’t just about Dante’s guilt. Something has him rattled. “His voice... I’ve never heard him sound like that.”
“I know, but I’m sure once he’s here and realizes we have his back, he’ll be fine.” Gia seems to be trying to reassure herself more than me.
She moves to the window, pulling back the covering again, her energy betraying the edge of nervousness she has now.
Her phone buzzes, and I watch her look down at it. She bites at her lip apprehensively before declining the call and shoving it into her pocket. I was about to ask who it was when suddenly my phone buzzes.
Before I can even look at it, she says sharply, “Don’t answer it.”
My eyes fix themselves on the name on the screen. “It’s Marco,” I state.
“I know. Don’t answer it,” she repeats.
“Gia,” I mutter as my hand obediently retreats. “What if he needs us?”
Gia’s gaze is unwavering as she shakes her head. “He doesn’t need us. He doesn’t meet with Amelia until three thirty. He’s just checking in.”
“He’s going to be worried if we don’t answer him.”
“Nico, please. I can’t lie to him. We promised each other, and I’m not ready for him to know Dante is coming here. Not until I have a chance to figure out what has him so upset.”
“He’s going to go out of his mind if neither of us answers,” I argue, torn between my oath of loyalty to Marco and understanding the deep desire not to explain to Marco that Dante is headed here despite his explicit instructions to the contrary.
“No, it’ll be fine,” she says, but her conviction falters. “Once he’s talking with Amelia, he’ll be too distracted by all that to worry about us, I promise.”
“I don’t know.” I hesitate, confident that while Marco may be willing to forgive Gia for not answering his calls, he would not be so understanding with me.
Gia’s eyes urge me not to answer. A silent plea for trust in her judgment. Despite every fiber of my being screaming at me to answer Marco’s call, I don’t.