Chapter 22 Isabella
I wake to the sound of Lupo moving around the bedroom, getting dressed for work. I watch him through half-closed eyes as he pulls on his work pants, his shirt. The scars on his back are visible in the dim light. A map of violence I've learned to accept.
He's mine. Scars and all.
"I know you're awake," he says without turning around.
"How?"
"Your breathing changed." He glances over his shoulder, smiling. "And you're staring."
"Can't help it. You're nice to look at."
He crosses to the bed, leaning down to kiss me. "Go back to sleep. It's early."
"Can't. Too much to do today."
"Like what?"
"Laundry. Garden. Market." I stretch, feeling pleasantly sore from last night. "The usual."
"Be careful at the market."
It's something he says every time I go. A reminder that we're still hiding, still vulnerable. That Draco might be gone but his people could still be looking. Though after a month of silence, I'm starting to believe we might actually be safe.
"I'm always careful."
He kisses me again, deeper this time, and I'm tempted to pull him back into bed. But he has work and we need the money.
"Tonight," he promises against my lips.
He leaves, and I lie there for a few more minutes, listening to Elena start to wake up. One month of this routine and it already feels like forever. Like this is how it's always been.
Lupo in my bed. Elena calling him Daddy. The three of us playing house on this failing farm.
It shouldn't work. A man with no memory, a woman on the run, and a little girl caught in the middle. It's a recipe for disaster.
But somehow, it works.
Elena's door opens and small feet pad into my room. "Mama? Where's Daddy?"
She's been calling him that for three days now, and every time she does, my heart clenches.
"He went to work, baby. But he'll be home for dinner."
"Can we make the red pasta? He likes it."
"We just made that two days ago."
"But it's his favorite."
I smile, pulling her into bed with me. "Okay. We'll make the red pasta. But you have to help."
"I always help!"
"You always help make a mess."
She giggles, and I hold her close, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. My daughter. Safe and happy and calling another man Daddy.
I should feel guilty about that. About erasing Draco from her life so completely. About replacing him with a man who killed him.
But I don't.
Because Elena is thriving. She's happier than I've ever seen her. More secure. More confident.
Lupo is good for her. Good for both of us.
We get up and start our day. Breakfast, then chores. Elena "helps" me hang laundry, which mostly means her running around with wet clothes and getting them dirty again. I don't mind. Her laughter is worth a little extra work.
By mid-morning, the sun is hot and I'm sweating. "Let's go to the market," I tell Elena. "We need tomatoes for the pasta."
"And bread? And candy?"
"We'll see."
We load into the truck and head to the village. It's the same market we've been going to for weeks now. The same vendors, the same faces. I've become a regular. Just another local buying produce for her family.
No one looks at me suspiciously anymore. No one asks questions. I'm just Isabella, the woman from the old farm with the cute daughter.
Safe. Anonymous. Normal.
Signora Russo smiles when she sees us. "Ah, Isabella! And little Elena! How are you both?"
"Good. We need tomatoes today. Lots of them."
"Making sauce?"
"Red pasta. For my..." I hesitate. What do I call Lupo? Boyfriend seems too casual. Partner too formal. "For Lupo. It's his favorite."
Her eyes twinkle. "I've seen him. Very handsome. And good with children, I hear."
"He is."
"You're lucky. Good men are hard to find."
If she only knew.
I buy tomatoes, garlic, fresh basil. More than I can really afford, but Lupo gave me extra money yesterday. Said he got a bonus at the site.
Elena charms an extra fig from another vendor, and I let her eat it while I browse. The market is busy today, full of locals doing their shopping.
Everything is normal. Peaceful.
Then I hear it. Two men standing near the cheese vendor, talking in low voices. But not low enough.
"—found it yesterday. Some hikers stumbled across the wreckage."
"Where?"
"That ravine north of here. You know the one—steep drop, no guardrails. The car must have gone over the edge."
"Anyone inside?"
"Yeah. A burned driver. Dead for weeks, apparently. Body was pretty decomposed and messed up."
"Do they know who it was?"
"Not yet. License plates were destroyed in the crash. They're trying to get the VIN number, trying to identify the vehicle."
I can't breathe. Can't move. The market spins around me.
They found the car. They found Draco.
"Mama?" Elena tugs on my hand. "Are you okay?"
I force myself to move, to smile, to act normal. "I'm fine, baby. Let's pay for these and go home."
My hands shake as I count out euros for the vendor. Too much. I don't care. I just need to get out of here.
Need to get home to Lupo.
I practically drag Elena back to the truck. She's protesting, saying she wanted to see the chickens again, but I can't. Not now.
"We have to go home, baby. Right now."
"But—"
"Now, Elena."
Something in my voice makes her stop arguing. She climbs into the truck, quiet, watching me with worried eyes.
I drive too fast on the winding roads. My mind is racing. They found the body. They'll identify the car. Trace it back to Draco. His people will come looking. They'll ask questions. They'll find out he came here.
They'll find us.
We need to run. Need to pack up and disappear before anyone connects Draco to us.
But where would we go? We have no money. No resources. Nowhere to hide.
And Lupo—what about Lupo?
I can't leave him. Won't leave him.
But staying means putting Elena at risk.
By the time I reach the farm, I'm hyperventilating. Elena is crying, scared by my panic. I park the truck and sit there, gripping the steering wheel, trying to calm down.
"Mama, what's wrong?"
"Nothing, baby. Everything's fine. I just—" I turn to look at her. "I just need you to go inside and play in your room for a bit, okay? Mama needs to think."
"But—"
"Please, Elena. Just for a little while."
She nods, sniffling, and climbs out of the truck. I watch her go inside, making sure she's safe, then I sit there with my head on the steering wheel.
They found the body. After a month of silence, of starting to believe we might be safe, they found him. It's only a matter of time now. Days, maybe. A week at most. Before someone identifies Draco. Before his people start asking questions. Before they trace his last known location to this area.
Before they come looking.
I need to tell Lupo. Need to warn him. But he's at the construction site and won't be home for hours. Hours we don't have. I pull out my phone with shaking hands. He doesn't have a phone. But I need to reach him. Need to tell him.
I'm still sitting there, paralyzed with fear, when I hear a vehicle approaching.
My heart stops.
Is it them? Already?
But when I look up, it's just a delivery truck, passing by on the main road. Not even slowing down. I'm being paranoid. They don't know yet. Can't know yet.
But they will. Soon.
I force myself out of the truck and into the house. Elena is in her room, playing quietly with her rabbit. I check on her, make sure she's okay, then go to the kitchen.
The tomatoes are still in the bag on the counter. The red pasta I was going to make for Lupo tonight.
I laugh, a slightly hysterical sound. Pasta. I was worried about making pasta while our entire world is about to come crashing down.
I need to think. Need to plan.
We could run. Pack what we can carry, take the truck, and disappear. Change our names again. Find another place to hide.
But Lupo's at work. We can't leave without him.
And even if we could, where would we go? How long before Draco's people find us again? How long before someone else shows up to threaten Elena?
I sink into a chair at the kitchen table, my head in my hands.
One month. We had one month of happiness. Of safety. Of pretending we could have a normal life.
And now it's over.
The only question is what we do next.
Do we run? Do we stay and fight? Do we wait and hope they don't connect Draco to this farm? I don't have answers. Don't have a plan.
All I know is that Lupo needs to come home. Now.
Because whatever happens next, we need to face it together.
I pull out my phone again and stare at it uselessly. No way to call him. No way to warn him.
All I can do is wait.
Wait for him to come home.
Wait for our fragile, beautiful life to shatter.
I look out the window at the farm—the garden we planted together, the fence he fixed, the home we've built from nothing.
And I pray that somehow, someway, we get to keep it.
But I don't believe in prayers anymore.
I believe in survival. In doing whatever it takes to protect the people I love.