The Don’s Deadly Assassin

30. Vincenzo

Vincenzo

Chapter 30

The first light of dawn casts a gentle glow on Camela's face as she sleeps peacefully beside me. From the moment I woke up, I find myself watching her, her chest rising and falling rhythmically with each breath. She looks so innocent in this moment, a hard thing to reconcile with the skilled assassin I've come to know she is.

I’m wrestling between affection and sheer unease.

My thoughts drift back to the revelation that Camela was the one who killed the professor. My stomach churns, and I can feel bile rise in my throat. I know I’ve forgiven her in every manner that matters, that I understand why she had to do what she did, and yet, the reality of her actions weighs heavily on me.

I close my eyes, trying to shut out the devil in my head, trying to get me to remain angry on my friend’s behalf.

The rational part of me knows that Camela, too, was a victim. The things the Handler did to her…

I look over at Camela again, watching as a strand of dark hair falls across her face. A sudden urge to protect her washes over me, and I gently brush the hair away, tucking it behind her ear. She stirs slightly but doesn't wake.

I don't know if I can ever truly move past what she did, but I'm willing to stand by her. We've both been through hell and maybe we can find our way out of it together.

I turn to the other piece of the puzzle that was unveiled the previous night. The professor told me if he was murdered, it would be for that arrow. Camela took it without understanding the power it held, but the Handler wants it.

A weapon this powerful in the hands of a man so cruel cannot be allowed.

I turn to the bedside table and lie captivated by the soft glow of the arrow. I’ve been drawn to it from the moment Camela placed it in my hand.

Was it sheer coincidence that brought us together? Or is it this arrow that holds more power than anyone realized?

Memories of our first encounter flash through my mind – the adrenaline and the undeniable connection we felt from the very beginning. Camela might have been struck by the arrow and believe she loves me all because of that one prick, but I loved her from the very start without any fated accident. It's difficult to ignore the feeling that our meeting was destined that our paths were meant to intertwine.

Given that, is it not my duty to protect the woman by my side and cherish this gift from the gods?

Yes. I must protect her, even against the assassins who come after me.

I sit up and put on my shoes. The arrow gleams in the morning light. I pick it up; it feels weightless, its ancient metal pulsating with energy. This relic is a part of our story now, and it's my responsibility to keep it safe.

Besides, Camela gave it to me last night. I don’t know what we will do with it, but it can’t get into the wrong hands.

I carry it to my room and unlock the heavy iron safe hidden in the back of my closet. The safe has protected many valuable items over the years, but none as significant as this. Placing the arrow inside, I secure it with a soft velvet cloth before locking the safe once more.

"Safe and sound," I murmur to myself.

As I walk down to the kitchen to make Camela breakfast, I feel an odd sense of assurance knowing the arrow is protected.

"Camela," I say softly.

I stand beside her bed holding a tray with her favorite breakfast foods: eggs, sausages, toast and fruit. Camela's puffy eyes flutter open, surprise flickering across her features.

"Good morning," I say with a soft smile playing on my lips. "I thought you might like some breakfast in bed."

"Vincenzo..." she murmurs, blinking sleepily as she sits up and straightens the covers around her. "You didn't have to do this."

"Of course not," I reply, setting the tray down on her lap. "But I wanted to."

Camela looks down at the carefully prepared meal, then back up at me, gratitude shining in her eyes. The trust between us has deepened, despite the shocking revelation about her involvement in Professor Julian's death.

I can tell that she appreciates this gesture, and I know we'll need all the strength and unity we can muster to face the assassins together.

As she begins to eat, I sit down on the edge of the bed, watching her. My thoughts race, trying to figure out how we should proceed in our fight against the Handler and the others. The arrow, now safely locked away in my room, is undoubtedly the key to all of this. But what comes next?

"Camela," I start hesitantly, "What do you think our next move should be?"

She pauses, fork halfway to her mouth, and takes a moment to think. Her gaze meets mine, confusion etched into her expression.

“Ours?”

I know what she’s trying to understand. She’s still in disbelief over what happened last night and how easily I could let it go. I reach over and tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Ours,” I say.

She breaks into a small smile, then shakes her head. “Nothing, Vincenzo. I know the Handler and the assassins better. I’ll keep doing what I did to protect you.”

“No,” I say, rather curtly. "That sounds dangerous."

"Everything we've done so far has been dangerous," she replies, her tone resolute. "But we're in this together, Vincenzo. You do what you know best, and I’ll handle the rest.

“It’s not your burden alone to handle, my love,” I tell her. “They’re coming for me. So either we do this together, or we run away from this place, far from the madness.”

“They’ll find us,” she pauses here and sighs. “You. They’ll find you anywhere. Please, Vincenzo. I need to make it up to you. After all the chaos I’ve caused, I can’t allow more turmoil into your life.”

“Then let them come,” I declare. “We’ll handle it together. I refuse to let you fight them alone anymore. I’ve trusted you so far, now it’s your time to trust me. We’re a team, aren’t we? Being a team means acting like one. Or do you truly want to face this alone?”

Camela looks at me, her gaze softening at my words. The mask she’s so used to, begins to crack, revealing a vulnerability that tugs at my heartstrings. Her eyes are filled with emotions I never thought possible for her - gratitude, affection, and something deeper that she doesn’t quite comprehend yet.

“You really mean that?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

I take her hand in mine, intertwining our fingers as I meet her gaze with unwavering determination. “I do. I trust you with my life, Camela, trust me with yours.”

She nods slowly, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Alright, Vincenzo. We’ll do it together.”

With our silent agreement hanging in the air, a sense of camaraderie settles between us—bound not only by the circumstances that brought us together but also by the choice we make to stand side by side with forgiveness in our hearts.