Chapter 14
Birdie
The market is everything I dreamed it would be.
Strings of twinkling lights overhead, the scent of roasted chestnuts and cinnamon drifting through the air, laughter rising from every direction.
For the first time in weeks, I’m surrounded by people who don’t know who I am, what I’ve seen, or what I’ve lost.
For once, I’m not a mafia hostage. Or guest. Or whatever they’re calling me.
I’m just… me.
And surprisingly, I really like hanging out with Rick.
We grab hot chocolate from a wooden booth decorated with pine garlands and sit on an empty bench tucked under a tree strung with fairy lights. He’s been talking about his friends who are home for winter break. It’s normal stuff and I cling to it like oxygen.
“We can swing by a party later, if you want to,” he says.
I laugh into my cup. “How did a guard for a mafia don end up with regular friends who go to college?”
“For a while, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. I looked into going to college and everything,” he says, his breath fogging in the cold. “But my dad reminded me of how kind the Conti family is. How loyal they are. It’s not the worst life.”
I wrap my hands tighter around the cup, letting the warmth seep into my fingers. “You must be braver than me.”
He grins. “How so?”
“I think I would’ve chosen a simple life over the mafia,” I admit. “Something quiet. Definitely something safe.”
He leans back on the bench, studying me through the soft glow of the lights. “I think you underestimate yourself. I heard what happened in Kansas City. You jumped in front of a bullet to save Ms. Conti.”
The sound of her name still hits like a blade. I flinch but manage a small nod. “Technically, I pushed her out of the way and got shot in the process.”
“See?” His smile widens. “Not many people would have done that.”
I shake my head, embarrassed. “I didn’t think. I just… moved.”
“Well,” he says, eyes glinting with mischief, “Don Conti should marry you off to one of his friends because you’re a mobster’s dream wife.”
“Ew. No.” I wrinkle my nose, laughing despite myself. “I don’t want to be traded like a pawn, thank you very much.”
He chuckles, leaning a little closer. “It’s not that bad. You’d be taken care of in exchange for having a few kids.”
I shoot him a look. “Says the man who doesn’t have to do any of those things.”
Rick laughs again, softer this time. “You have a point. But if they looked like you, I wouldn’t mind.”
My heart stumbles, and for a second, I forget to breathe. The cold air feels suddenly too sharp, too real.
“Careful, Rick,” I say lightly, hiding the tremor in my voice. “Flirting with the boss’s prisoner might actually get you killed.”
He grins, but there’s a flicker of something uneasy behind it. “Maybe. But you’re worth the risk.”
The words hang between us, warm as the cocoa cooling in our hands. And for just a heartbeat, I let myself believe they’re true.
Before I can answer, Rick stands and offers me his hand. “Want to check out the party?”
I close my eyes for a moment as Sienna’s face crosses my mind. She’d be grabbing my arm, telling me to accept. So, that’s what I do.
“You know what? I do. Let’s go.”
The next thing I know, we’re on the L, the wind slicing through the tunnels as the train rattles toward the north side.
The party’s in a rundown apartment building that smells faintly of beer and nostalgia like half the college parties I used to go to with Sienna.
It’s loud. Packed. Bodies moving to the beat of a song I don’t recognize, the air thick with cinnamon whiskey and sweat.
Someone laughs too loud. Someone cries out in excitement when they see Rick.
The noise and chaos blur together until it feels like déjà vu—the apartment, the crowd, the music, the sharp bite of alcohol.
For one dizzy second, I’m back in Kansas City.
Back at that party.
Back before everything went wrong.
My chest tightens. I take the cup Rick hands me and drain it fast, desperate to drown the memories before they can surface. The punch is stronger than I expect, but I don’t care. I just want to feel something other than guilt.
Rick laughs, his voice warm and steady beside me, introducing me to people I’ll never remember. Every time my cup empties, someone fills it again.
The room gets louder, blurrier. My skin feels hot, flushed. At one point I tug off my sweater, leaving me in only my black bra. Someone whistles, and laughter ripples through the crowd. A few girls cheer and follow suit, turning the moment into a dare.
I can’t stop laughing. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the freedom, or maybe it’s just that I’m finally not thinking about her… or him… or about anything.
Rick leans close, his breath warm against my ear. “Would it be okay if I kissed you, Birdie?”
He’s looking at me like he’s already fallen halfway in love. I should say no. I should pull back. But Sienna’s voice echoes in my head from that last night together.
We’ll get you laid before New Year’s yet.
My breath catches.
“Yeah,” I whisper.
The music swells, and his hand finds mine as the lights blur into streaks of color. For a few seconds, I let myself fall into the noise and the warmth and the forgetting.
But somewhere deep inside, I know this isn’t freedom. It’s running. And you can’t run forever.
His mouth crashes against mine in a wet, clumsy kiss that only gets worse when he adds his tongue. It tastes like alcohol and bad decisions, but I let him. Because that’s what people my age do at parties like this. They kiss strangers, they laugh too loud, they forget the world outside these walls.
I tell myself that’s what I’m doing too. Forgetting.
I reach up, fingers brushing his jaw, ready to pretend a little longer when suddenly he’s gone.
I blink, breath catching, confusion flooding in as my vision struggles to focus. The music is still pounding, the crowd still moving, but everything around me slows.
And then I see Lorenzo.
Standing exactly where Rick was a heartbeat ago, framed by flashing lights and cigarette haze like some vengeful apparition. His expression is pure fury—cold, controlled, and infinitely more terrifying than if he’d shouted.
My stomach drops.
For a second, no one else even seems to notice him. But I do. Every inch of me does.
The air between us crackles, sharp and electric, as his dark gaze sweeps over me. And I know, with a sick twist in my gut, that something we can’t take back is about to happen.