Chapter Thirty-Two Larissa
Chapter Thirty-Two
LARISSA
STRENGTH DEPLETED, THROUGH sheer will alone, I manage to raid Cecelia’s closet and dress in a thermal shirt, ill-fitting jeans, and boots a half size too big.
Searching the house from top to bottom, I find no phone, burner, or connected landline, knowing all too well that a true enemy wouldn’t leave me anything useful.
When the first hacking cough breaks through, dizzying me, I negate the weakness.
Hunting every drawer and closet, I stumble upon a fully loaded but scarcely concealed Beretta in minutes.
Too obvious.
Trepidation sets in as I ponder what the easy access could mean for me as I ransack the rest of the house, hacking as I go, as Tyler’s only warning circulates—soon. Knowing all too well that soon began the second he abandoned me in this house.
It’s that awareness that keeps me focused, ushering me through the bloodred front door only to be stopped cold when I spot a familiar truck sitting in the driveway.
The sight of the neon-green classic bringing me back to my seventeenth summer and the very first time I laid eyes on Tyler Jennings.
I ignore the threatening ache the recollection brings as I approach the driver’s door, but it’s the sight of the keys in the ignition that has dread settling in my gut.
An image of Iggy tearfully waving me off before I left for Italy flits to mind as I mentally reject any other outcome.
Determined to salvage the most vital part of my mission, I thrust myself behind the wheel.
Barely able to see through my next uncontrollable coughing fit, I turn the truck over, and an automated GPS voice shrills from the speakers: “We’re all set, let’s go! ”
Jumping out of my skin, I search the screen eagerly for my destination and freeze when I recognize it’s a place I know all too well. My own personal hell—Ciro’s mansion.