42. Day 100 – Luciano
Igive Dom one last warning glance as I slip from the room.
He’s leaning against the far wall, but he tilts up his chin in a silent message of acknowledgement. Matteo is next to him, glazed eyes suggesting he’s taken up more than one line of the white powder liberally offered through the crowd.
The hall is dark, lit only by handfuls of candles flickering above my head. The small amber lights send shadows scattering across the teeming mass of bodies writhing against each other below.
My feet crunch over broken glass as I slip between them. Nobody pays any attention to me. Everyone here only cares about getting their next hit.
The guards at the bottom of the stairs straighten when they see me.
“Food.” I stagger, nearly falling into one of them as a grunt leaves my lips. “I need some fucking food.”
They shove me away, distaste curling their lips. One points to the kitchen. “There.”
I salute, my fingers a good few inches from my head, and offer them a lopsided grin. “Much appreciated.”
They’ve already turned back to the main show as I stumble off.
When I stumble into the kitchen, the butler turns to me with stooped shoulders and a tense expression. “Can I help you?”
I remember Caterina’s butler – Fernandez - as a bustling, round, sometimes overly formal man, immaculate and proud. But there’s no respect in his eyes for me, even as he inclines his head.
I squint at him. “Food.”
“Of – of course. Anything in particular?”
When I shake my head, he motions me to a chair. I watch, my head slumped in my hands as he moves around the kitchen, slapping a sandwich together that he drops in front of me with barely veiled disdain.
A positive sign.
Mumbling my thanks, I work my way through it as my eyes creep to the clock on the wall.
Carefully, my hand slides into my jacket, wrapping around the grip of my gun. A burst of noise echoes from outside, shouts and laughter, and I ease my way over to the door to listen. When only silence remains, I move across the room.
“What are you doing?”
Fernandez holds up his hands as I turn, face stricken as I aim the pistol in his direction. His eyes dart between me and the barely noticeable outline of the tunnel entrance behind me. Exactly where Amie said it would be. “That’s not – there’s nothing behind that wall. Just stone.”
He pales further when the gun lifts higher. “Please.”
I study him in silence. Behind him, the clock chimes. Once. Twice. “I’m not going to hurt them.”
He swallows. “Who?”
I raise an eyebrow at the lie. “I think you know who I’m talking about.”
His eyes flit around the room. Debating. Slowly, I lower the gun. “If you give a fuck about them, you’ll watch the door. Try to open it, and this won’t end so well for you.”
I back up as Fernandez moves to the door, watching him carefully as I listen for any noise.
Come on.
If something’s gone wrong… “How do I get this door open?”
“There’s a latch to your right.”
The click of the door coincides with the sound of footsteps in the pitch black. Straightening, I keep the gun steady—
Amie’s pale face appears through the dark.
“Grazie a Dio.” I breathe it, stepping back to let her slip out into the dimly lit kitchen.
She came. And in her arms, sleeping peacefully, is Alessia.
I gesture toward the exit, but Amie shakes her head, twisting to look behind her. “Matteo called for me just now.”
My body locks into stillness as she holds out Alessia. Her voice shakes. “Take her. Quickly, Luc. I have to go back.”
“Absolutely fucking not.”
Her hands are trembling badly as she thrusts the little girl into my arms, unslinging a rucksack from her shoulder. I shift, tucking my gun away. “They will come in and get me if I don’t go. I have a few minutes at best. Please – go now. If they come inside and see that she’s gone—,”
We’ll have the whole fucking house looking for us.
But they’ll still find out at some point. And she’ll be here, forced to answer for it.
I stare at her for precious seconds, wracking my brain for a solution that gets them both out. “Take her and go. I’ll go and hold them off.”
She takes another step back, away from me. And her small smile fucking guts me. “I would have liked to have someone like you, Luciano Morelli.”
I lunge for her, but my arms are filled with Alessia. Amie slips back into the tunnel, and her face crumples when she looks back. “Get her somewhere safe, and it will be worth it. And tell Cat… tell her I’m sorry.”
“Stop—,”
But she’s gone.
She vanishes back into that tunnel until she’s swallowed up by that darkness. And Fernandez is pushing the door closed behind her with a grim expression, making sure there’s no trace of it showing. “In case she gets chance to use it again. Go.”
My arms tighten around Alessia as she shifts, one small arm freeing from the pale green blanket Amie wrapped her in.
I have to. I have to go now.
Wrenching my head away, I stride for the door with a nod to Fernandez. This might be our first and only shot, and I cannot waste it. If we’re caught, Amie will no doubt still face a punishment for letting her go, and it will be for nothing.
I have to get Alessia out, no matter the cost.
My footsteps pound against the packed mud beneath our feet as I race through the copse of trees behind the Corvo house. I’m careful to watch my steps, mindful of the warm bundle held against my chest. My breathing speeds up, adrenaline and disbelief and guilt warring for space as I burst out of the trees.
A soft, sleepy noise comes from Alessia as I strap her into the car seat I bought.
Go.
It echoes in my head as I throw myself into the driving seat. Tremors make me clench my hands, taking a breath before I start the engine.
Once I’ve put several miles of distance between us and Matteo, I pull up at the side of the road and tap out a message, turning to glance at Alessia.
Bright green eyes blink back at me, wide and curious. She waves a chubby little fist in my direction, her kicking legs making her curls bounce.
My voice is… unsteady, as I take her in. “Ciao, Alessia.”
I receive a loud, unintelligible burble of words in return. Alessia stares at me, as if waiting for me to respond. When I only blink back at her, she inhales before more words pour out.
Her tone sounds suspiciously like I’m being told off.
My heart. Just like that, it splits in two.
One half for Caterina.
And one half for the little girl who keeps up a steady flow of one-sided, incomprehensible conversation behind me as I drive, my cheeks wet as I listen.
I’m bringing you home, cuoricino.