The Don’s Deadly Assassin

26. Vincenzo

Vincenzo

Chapter 26

I find a washroom five minutes away from where I left Veronika and Camela. I quickly finish up, and walk out into the chilly night to rejoin them. But they’re nowhere in sight.

I see a pathway up ahead, and follow it straight. Five, ten, fifteen minutes pass by and I feel like I’m meandering in the wrong direction.

“Camela?” I call into the stillness. “Veronika?”

I try Camela’s phone. It goes straight to voicemail. I realize I don’t have the guide’s number and call the organizer who informs me she’s new and hasn’t submitted her personal details as yet.

“How have you been communicating?” I bark into the phone, angry at this inconvenience.

“Email, Don Vincenzo,” he replies, sounding sheepish.

I groan and keep walking, in whichever direction I find. I reach a dead-end and turn back, taking a right I hadn’t earlier.

And then, I hear it.

"I know you're here, little mouse," an angry shout piercing the night, Veronika’s voice bouncing off the walls. "Why don't you come out and play?"

There’s no response.

My heart vibrates, a jackhammer in action, when I realize there’s only one person she could be speaking to with such a threat: Camela.

There’s no one else here.

My brain scrambles, one of my enemies, for Camela has none, must have found us.

|The guide – she must have tracked us down. Perhaps sent by the people behind the Professor’s death. Harming Camela is their way of getting to me. I’ve put her in danger. My sweet, innocent Camela. Leaving her unguarded was a catastrophic mistake.

My hart rams into my ribs. I rush forward, the need to protect Camela propelling me. I follow the threatening voice, then freeze. There is a narrow opening in the ancient forum ruins. I creep towards it, then halt in my tracks.

Two silhouettes are dancing in a deadly waltz at the edge of a covered pit. Camela and Veronika.

I’m ready to scream, to warn them, when I notice the guide swipe at Camela’s throat with something sharp. I step forward, prepared to sprint towards them as Camela avoids the attack.

And then, I freeze when the guide says her next words. "You should know by now, my pet. Even the Huntress can’t remain on top forever.."

Huntress?

"Why don't you come take my title then?" Camela snaps back.

They know each other. This has nothing to do with me, and right now, the woman I love is a stranger to me, speaking strange things, making strange moves.

And I’m reduced to a spectator. My jaw, neck, and chest feel like they’re being compressed into a tight space. I’ve inadvertently walked into a secret Camela’s clearly kept from me, and I don’t know what I’m defending her against exactly.

Just then, the guide falls over to the makeshift roof. It cracks under her weight and she drops.

Camela reaches out, grabbing the woman’s hand who spits out: “I’ll kill you.”

Camela holds on. Relief spreads through me. Camela’s innocent. She’d never kill someone on purpose. I know this now. I take a few steps forward, prepared to help Camela bring the woman back to the surface, when I hear the cold, harrowing words escape the warm lips I often think about: "Remember this, Temptress. You should never have come for mine."

And then, she lets go…There’s a piercing scream followed by a sickening crunch from below.

I gasp, and shout without thinking. “Camela! What have you done?” My knees tremble under me. What is she involved in?

Camela turns to me, ashen-faced. “V…Vincenzo,” she whispers, all the natural pink of her face now grey. “I…I didn’t know you were here.”

I walk up to her, my breath coming out in jagged wisps. I want to rush over, see if she’s alright, but I wonder if I should be afraid. I stop a few feet away from her and her eyes flicker over mine, before trailing down my body, and then proceeding to map the distance between us.

With her eyes still on the ground, she clutches her hands together. “I swear, Vincenzo. I had no other choice.” Her voice is cracked, almost whimpering.

“Tell me what happened?” I ask, needing answers.

She looks up, her face contorted with pain. “Not here, Vincenzo. Please,” she begs, her hands joined together and almost raised. “I’ll tell you everything later.”

In that instant, I know she’s desperate. Her eyes dart around us, from one corner of the place to another and I think back to my life in the mafia. How many secrets have I kept? To protect those around me?

Camela doesn’t wish to harm me. I can tell she’s afraid of what I saw, of how I think of her.

In the night, the guide’s painful moans fill the air from the pit, like a morbid song. Camela turns her back to me and stands motionless at the edge of the pit, staring down into the void where the guide’s probably mangled, but living body lays.

I approach Camela on shaky legs, knowing her task isn’t yet done. No matter what I just witnessed, I’ve witnessed similar things hundreds of times in the past; some, at my own hands, others at the hands of loved ones.

Perhaps I need to take a look in the mirror, before I decide to reduce Camela to a cold-blooded killer. There could be a million explanations. Some of these from her past, which she hasn’t unlocked for me yet. I can’t claim that I’ve told her of all the horrors I’ve caused.

I reach right beside her and the woman below us moans again. An appalling reminder of the horrific events that just took place here.

My sweet Camela, what happened to that gentle soul you showed me?

"Camela..." I say softly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Finally turning to meet my eyes, she says “I promise I’ll explain everything when we get home.”

I hesitate, then ask the question I'm dreading to hear answered. "Camela, am I going to be angry when you explain all this?"

She pauses, and for a moment I see a flash of uncertainty cross her face. "Probably," she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her answer tells me all I need to know for now. She didn’t try to make excuses or justify anything. She’s going to be true and honest, just as she was now.

I know there's no going back now. What's done is done. But we can't just leave things as they are. “We need to handle this carefully,” I assert.

“What are you saying?”

I ignore her question. There’s no time to waste. "We have to make it look like an accident,” I tell her, in a tone that can’t be argued against. “This isn’t my first time,” I remind her, of who I am, the family I come from.

I’m Don Consolini, after all. Camela nods, her expression unreadable. I feel sick staging such a deception, but I know it's our only option. My mind flashes back to my earliest days as a mafia don, cleaning up messes and tying up loose ends when I didn’t have my men under my control, right after my brother died. I never wanted to revisit that ruthless part of myself again. But here we are.

“If the authorities find her like this, it could raise questions,” I tell Camela. She nods.

“There was a sign,” Camela tells me. She rushes away and returns with a large Do Not Enter board on a stick.

“Go plant it back,” I tell her. “Wherever you picked it up from.”

She runs off, and by the time she returns, I have a plan already. "We'll stage an accident. Trigger a controlled fire and a collapse of the labyrinth wall. That should bury any evidence of what really happened." I squeeze her hand reassuringly. "I'll take care of it. No one will ever connect this to you. Or to us. Go wait by the entrance. If the guard asks, say I’m in the washroom."

“But Vincenzo!” she protests. “Let me help.”

“Camela, go!” I warn her. She’s done enough for one night. I’d like to keep her hands as untainted as I can, from this point forward. I still love this woman, no matter what. She opens her mouth but anger washes over me, despite the fact that I love her. It’s a conundrum, these confused emotions waging war inside me. I step forward, and stop her from speaking by placing my fingers on her lips. “Leave, Camela. Now.”

“I won’t!” she takes my hand and puts it down, still holding on to it. A fiery defiance flashes in her eyes, and I bite my tongue. Despite what she did, she remains true to herself. For some reason, her rage calms mine.

“Fine,” I whisper. “Stand back, by that opening,” I point to the only entry and exit to this space.

She doesn’t argue again. I watch her stand under the dome like gate, watching me with hawk eyes.

I shake off her presence and walk towards the boundary. I run my hands and fingers along the wall until I locate the electrical wiring. Following the tangle of cables, I find what I'm looking for - the main power line feeding this section of the labyrinth. With steady hands, I strip away the plastic coating, exposing the copper wires underneath. I know just how to manipulate them to cause the right amount of damage.

Sparks fly as I carefully cross and twist the live wires, bypassing the circuit breakers. The acrid smell of burning plastic fills the air. I work quickly, keeping one eye on the structural integrity of the wall beside me.

Right on cue, the stone begins to fracture and crumble, destabilized by the electrical fire I've triggered. The collapse starts slowly at first, then gains momentum as huge blocks shear away from the walls. Clouds of debris billow through the corridors.

I duck into an alcove, shielding my face from the destruction. The ground shudders under my feet. With a deafening roar, a large section of the wall gives way, burying that cursed pit under tons of rubble.

When the chaos finally settles, I emerge to survey the scene. The labyrinth is unrecognizable, consumed by flames and buried in shattered stone. No one could ever tell this was not just an unfortunate structural collapse during the height of the event. The guide’s body will never be found.

My work here is finished. It's time to leave this nightmare behind. I run over boulders of burning wood and stone without looking back. I run towards where Camela is waiting for me.

Taking her hand in mine, we dart away from the entrance just as the fire wholly claims the space we were standing in minutes ago.

Once inside our car, I hit the button to raise the privacy partition, sealing us off from the driver. Finally, Camilla and I have a moment alone to process what just happened.

I pick up my phone and call my contact who organized tonight.

“Don Consolini?” he picks up, sounding like he was asleep.

“I don’t know what incompetent guide you sent us!” I bellow into the phone. “There was a fire, and she disappeared, leaving us there. Call the emergency services. The Forum is burning up!”

“What?” he screams, suddenly awake. “Are you alright, Sir?”

“I’m with my men. We’re safe. Your guide, though. Fire her! And call for reinforcements,” I end the call without waiting for more questions from his end.

That settled, I turn to Camela, my voice still shaky. Despite everything that happened, I don’t want respite. I want answers. "Was that...was that because of your ex? Is he behind this?"

Camela avoids my gaze, staring down at her clenched fists. "No. This wasn't his doing." She pauses, struggling to find the words. "I don't even know where to begin explaining everything to you, Vincenzo."

My heart pounds, and for the first time tonight I feel fear. Fear that this might tear us apart. I want to press her for answers, but the rawness in her voice gives me pause.

I reach out and take her hand, an attempt at comfort that feels woefully inadequate. She grips my hand tightly as if I’m her only lifeline, unshed tears glistening in her eyes.

I pull her close, stroking her hair while sirens wail outside, heading in the direction we just came from.