37. Camela
Camela
Chapter 37
Matthiera wraps the garrote around Vincenzo's neck with practiced precision, the wire glinting under the starry lights. My heart leaps into my throat.
Vincenzo's eyes meet mine, terror etched into the lines around them. For a few seconds, I look at him in a daze, still thinking of what I’ve just learned. Rage and grief war inside me. I thought I knew Matthiera, but he's become a stranger, a monster. Matthiera killed Antonio, and now he’s going to do the same to us.
“Camela,” Vincenzo whispers, drawing me back to the moment. The fear in his eyes speaks volumes and I realize it’s not Matthiera he’s afraid of. He’s wondering if I still stand by him.
Shame overcomes me. Whatever happened, happened. Whatever comes, will. But I can’t abandon Vincenzo to emotions I can’t confront right now. His life dangles before my eyes, Matthiera prepared to go in for the strike.
And I’m not going to let that happen.
I take a step forward on instinct, my hands curling into fists. Vincenzo struggles against the wire cutting into his throat, desperation in his eyes. I launch myself at Matthiera with a yell, ducking under his garrote and driving my fist into his solar plexus. The air leaves his lungs in a satisfying whoosh.
He stumbles back, gasping, and I press my advantage. A sharp kick to his knee sends him crashing down, the garrote slipping from his grasp. Vincenzo rubs at his throat, drawing in deep, ragged breaths. I spare him a glance, nodding to let him know I have this under control, before turning my focus back to Matthiera.
He's struggling to rise, face contorted with rage, but I slam my boot into his chest, pinning him to the ground. "Don't even think about it," I snarl.
Matthiera sneers up at me, malice in his cold eyes. "You can't stop me, Camela. I'll destroy everything you hold dear, just like I destroyed Antonio."
Red-hot fury courses through me and I grind my heel into his chest. "You won’t be hurting us, I can promise you that much."
He laughs, the sound wheezing from his abused lungs. "We'll see about that."
Before I can reply, Matthiera twists violently under my foot, throwing me off balance. I tumble to the side, momentarily stunned.
I spin on my heel, my eyes falling on Vincenzo. He's leaning against the brick wall, one hand braced on the stone as he struggles to catch his breath. Our eyes meet and in his gaze, I see a mix of emotions: gratitude, anger, sorrow. No doubt he's thinking of his brother, the wound Matthiera inflicted still raw and bleeding.
Vincenzo straightens, hand dipping into his jacket. I tense, ready to spring into action, and to my horror, he pulls out a pistol. Slowly, he raises his hand, the pistol aimed straight at Matthiera, who is now shifting to stand back up.
“Nooo!” I scream, momentarily confusing both men as they try to decipher what threat I’m afraid of. Could there still be a chance to save Matthiera? He was like family to me. We had been close, might still be close. I rush over in three strides, standing right in the line of Vincenzo’s gun.
“Move, Camela,” Vincenzo warns, his eyes on Matthiera, who stands behind me.
"No," I say firmly. "Killing him won't change anything.”
"Change?" Vincenzo seethes, his finger twitching on the trigger. "He murdered my brother, Antonio! He deserves to die!"
"Vincenzo, please," I plead, my voice cracking with emotion. "I understand your pain, but there must be another way.”
"Get out of the way, Camela!" Vincenzo shouts again, determination etched across his face.
I swallow hard, a knot forming in my stomach as I make my choice. With a final glance at Matthiera's gasping form, I shove him aside, out of the path of Vincenzo's gun and summersault forward to kick the gun right out of Vincenzo’s hand. Vincenzo spins, the gun flying in the air, disappearing into some nearby bushes.
"Damn it, Camela!" Vincenzo shouts, clutching his hand. "Why did you do that?"
I don’t answer, turning back to see if Matthiera escaped. Behind me, there’s nothing but emptiness. The snake has slithered away, vanishing into shadows and I can finally breathe in relief.
"Where did he go?" Vincenzo hisses from behind me. I turn to see him scanning the land with wild eyes. He looks like a coiled spring ready to unleash its energy at any moment.
"Matthiera is resourceful," I reply. "He could be anywhere by now."
"Why did you stop me?" Vincenzo’s voice is hoarse, strained. "After everything he's done, he deserved to die."
I take a step toward him, hands raised in a placating gesture. "I know you're hurting, Vincenzo, but killing him won't undo the pain or bring Antonio back."
He scowls, and steps back from me. "He has to pay for his crimes. If you hadn't interfered, I could have ended this tonight."
"Revenge won't give you peace," I say softly. “Matthiera did the same as I did when I killed the professor. It wasn’t personal. Please, Vincenzo, think of Matthiera as an extension of me.”
“He’s nothing like you,” Vincenzo spits back. I can see the pain and rage at my betrayal burning in his eyes.
“But he needs guidance. I wasn’t this person, Vincenzo. Not until I met you. You know as well as I do that there's more to Matthiera than meets the eye. He may have made terrible choices, but deep down, he's still the little boy I trained with, the boy I once trusted.”
Vincenzo looks away, jaw clenched. I can see the war raging inside him, grief and anger battling with the knowledge that he and I don’t see eye-to-eye for the very first time since we started this.
"I believe in redemption, Vincenzo" I whisper, my determination flaring up like an ember refusing to be extinguished. I need him to see I’m right. "And I believe that there's still a chance to save Matthiera, to bring him back to the person I knew before all this darkness consumed him. If I can’t believe that, then how can I think I’ve changed? I extend the same courtesy to him that you and I did to me.”
After a long moment, his shoulders slump in defeat. "I don't know if I can forgive him for this," he admits, voice rough with emotion. “For Antonio.”
I step forward and wrap my arms around him, offering what little comfort I can. "You don't have to forgive him," I whisper, "but promise me you won't seek vengeance. Promise me you'll try to let me handle this."
He's silent for a long moment. "I can’t make any promises. But I’ll stand by you until things become clearer."
The words are a balm over the ragged edges of my worry. As long as Vincenzo is by my side, it’s all going to be okay.