Chapter 3
Grace
The hushed sounds of the restaurant and my own blood pumping in my ears are the only things I can hear. My eyes flicker to the bay window at the front as the bells at the entrance jingle, and another member of the familia walks through the glass double doors.
The restaurant is so quaint and gives off a family-friendly feel. The dark green cloth table linens and plaid curtains on the windows make this place look like the quintessential Italian restaurant. Even the soft music playing over the speakers gives an air of comfort.
It’s all bullshit. It’s a front, and the entire city knows it.
I glance up and across the room at my father, seated at the table farthest from me as he talks animatedly to someone I haven’t met.
He leans back as he laughs, the sound bellowing from his stomach.
He looks jovial. That’s fake, too. Or is it?
Maybe he’s happy that I’ll be gone soon.
I still don’t know his intentions, but I don’t care.
I’m grateful. Scared shitless and trying to control my emotions, but grateful.
The bells chime again, and I whip my head up to see another man walk through the doors. The restaurant is closed tonight. But that doesn’t mean anything.
I can feel their eyes on me. Everyone’s looking at me as they talk in indistinct voices.
I’m not supposed to be here. Some are confused by my presence.
Others are visibly anxious. A man across from me doesn’t bother to look away when I meet his eyes.
His fingertips tap repeatedly on the wooden table.
He clears his throat and breaks my gaze, running the back of his hand across his mouth and yelling out for someone named Joey to grab him a beer.
Maybe they all don’t know what’s going on, but some do.
I can’t help but look over my shoulder one more time, searching for Uncle Toni. I don’t know anyone in here other than my father. I think that may have been an intentional play by him. No one’s talked to me, but I have no intention of talking to them either.
Two firm hands grip my shoulders as I turn in my seat. I nearly yell out from the sudden touch, but the sight of my father’s cold eyes keeps me quiet. His fingers dig into my skin, and I wonder if the men can tell it hurts. If they do know, they don’t show it. They don’t try to stop him.
“Now.” He nods his head, and I’m frozen in place from the intensity. “Start walking down Broom Street.” He leans forward and plants a kiss on my forehead before releasing me.
His touch is gentle and unexpected. I have to blink several times before his expression changes back to the one I’m used to. The chair squeaks on the ground as I turn to do what I’m told. I’m still surviving. Just a little longer until I don’t have to obey. Until I can run.
As I walk to the front, my legs shake and my nerves get the better of me. I turn to see the man from earlier looking at me again. As soon as my eyes meet his, he looks away from me. For some reason, my heart sinks. As if deep down I’d hoped someone would save me. How foolish.
No one in this building is coming to my rescue. I push against the heavy doors, knowing I’m the only one who can save myself.
The second the doors swing open, the cold air hits my face.
They close behind me, leaving the sounds of the restaurant to fade to nothing as the noises of the night greet me.
The wind lashes out at me, and I have to close my eyes and shield my cheek a moment with my arm.
My thin jean jacket offers little protection against the brutal chill.
I heave in a deep breath and lower my arm. It’s dark now, the sky nearly black with only a sliver of the moon shining above me. The street light closest to me flickers as I start to walk. It’s only then that fear consumes me.
I’m alone. I’ve always felt alone, but protected in some sense. In an odd way, I’ve felt safe. Maybe not from my father, but safe in that I knew I'd live to see tomorrow.
The air hurts my lungs as I take in a breath, and I let out a rough cough. It makes my eyes sting as I take another step and look over my shoulder at the restaurant. I could go back, but the very thought makes me start walking faster.
Never again. My legs move of their own accord, and I shove my hands into my pockets.
I know I’ll never go back. Not willingly.
If only my conviction was enough to save me. I swallow the fear rising up my throat and turn the corner. I’m bait, but I can outrun them. I’ll outrun all of them. I have to try, anyway.
I blink against the wind, hating how my eyes water. I haven’t cried in so long. I sure as fuck won’t do it now when my freedom is so close.
Of course I’m not dressed to run. I'm in heels and a dress, with a thin set of leggings. My father wanted me to play the part of an easy target, and he had to approve of my outfit. I’m tempted to kick off the heels so I can walk faster, but that’s when I sense someone behind me.
As my pace picks up, so do the steps behind me.
Someone's clearly following me.
Tracking me.
There’s nothing to listen to on this empty street other than our echoing steps and my anxious breath.
The smacking of his shoes against the pavement resonates loud in my ears.
The click of my heels is nothing compared to the thudding from whoever the fuck is back there.
It has to be a man. The sound is too damn heavy to belong to anyone under 200 pounds.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The Romanos. No. No, I refuse to believe they’d come this close to the restaurant. It’s all in my head. I can’t lose my chance at freedom so quickly. Maybe it’s a Rossi. The thought should give me comfort, but it does the very opposite.
I’m too nervous to look back. In the movies, when people look behind themselves, that’s when they have to start running. As soon as they glance back. They run, or they die. Even though in most cases running doesn’t save them anyway.
I’m not fucking stupid; if I started running, I wouldn’t make it one minute before he caught me. At least right now whoever it is back there is keeping some distance. For now…
I tell myself over and over, maybe he’s not following me.
I still have a possibility at freedom. He’s just walking to his car.
Or maybe he’s just walking to his house or a bar at the other end of this street.
But after a few blocks, the sound of him following me is unbearable.
There’s not much on this street. The lone gas station is closed down, and there isn’t another building for a few blocks.
Everything’s run down and empty. My heart rate picks up as the reality sets in. He’s here to take the bait.
A bad man is behind me, I know that much. Maybe it’s the Romanos, like my father wanted. Like he planned.
Even if he’s not from the Romanos, these streets are filled with bad men late at night.
If the stranger behind me had good intentions, he would’ve said something by now.
There’s no way in hell he’s not following me.
At some point he’ll get closer. He’ll gain more speed than what I have, and then I’ll have to run.
But I’m definitely going to make him work for it.
If he wants to put his hands on me, then he’s going to have to catch me first. And then fight me.
I’m not going to be a good little victim.
I’ll do everything possible to scratch his eyes out before I give in.
I try to steady my breath, but it’s so fucking cold out, just breathing hurts.
The man shadowing me is all I can think about. I didn’t even pay attention when I turned the corner down the alley.
I was so consumed by what was behind me, I didn’t see who was right in front of me until it was too late.