Chapter 38 Grace #3
For the first time, I’m experiencing firsthand just how dangerous this life is. So many things can go wrong.
Nico returns a few minutes later with a childlike gleam in his eyes.
"Dude, try not to look so happy about all this," Max says.
"It's called being passionate," Nico replies. "I don't expect someone like you to know the meaning of that."
"Is it done?" Dante asks. "The police have been notified. They're on standby."
"It's ready. There will be a raging fire that will set off all the smoke alarms in..." Nico checks his watch. "Three, two, one..."
At first, nothing happens.
And then someone runs out from the kitchen with an apron in hand. He glances around the club, trying to find the hostess.
"Voila," Nico says. "I'm so proud of myself. I never thought my destructive tendencies would someday make the world a better place. I knew there was a reason I was given the gift of arson."
"Can someone please tell this man to shut up?" Dimitri exclaims.
The smoke alarms go off. Nico smiles like a proud parent.
"Still got it," Nico says.
"Not the flex you think it is," Max mutters.
"You're just jealous you can't think on your feet like me," Nico says.
The staff rushes to extinguish the fire. When they realize it can’t be contained, they begin the evacuation process. The music cuts out, and a voice over the speakers instructs everyone to use the emergency exits.
The elevators serve as the primary access to the basement club, with two emergency exits opening to the forested land behind the club. They have no idea the police are about to use those same exits to raid the place.
Before anyone can leave, the emergency doors explode inward. Police in black tactical gear swarm the club, quickly sealing all exit points and pointing their rifles at the center of the club.
"Polis! Diam! Tangan ke atas!" They repeat their orders in English as well.
A ripple of shock and fear courses through the air. Someone starts sobbing loudly, only to be head-butted by the back of a rifle. Every single lock clicks open, including the cages. One of the police officers starts climbing the one to the far left, right below where Ida is being kept.
But Dante moves forward and stops the police officer.
I hold my breath, imagining that they'll reprimand him in some way.
But the officer steps back and hands Dante a blanket.
Dante throws the blanket over his shoulder and climbs all the way up to the top cage.
His sister is crying quiet tears. But when Dante reaches her, she throws her arms around him.
“I waited for you, Dante,” she sobs. “I knew you’d find me one day.”
Dante presses his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry it took me so long, Ida.”
My heart squeezes in my chest. I'm so beyond happy for Dante, but there's a war in my head. I can't stop thinking about all the other women who have been separated from their families.
Dante wraps the blanket around his sister's shoulders and scoops her under one arm. As he descends the bars, she clings to him like a child, crying all the way down.
I almost can't look at her like this, but I make myself watch. I want this memory to be imprinted in my mind. This is what people like my mother do. This is why they deserve to die.
The police quickly move to the other sections. They arrest all staff members and detain the customers as well.
Dante brings his sister toward us. She’s so beautiful, with her honey-brown eyes and mane of dark hair. Dante gestures toward me.
"Ida, this is my wife, Grace," he says.
I smile at her, but she steps forward and wraps her arms around me in a hug.
"Hi, nice to meet you," she says. Her voice is husky. When she pulls away, she removes the veil from over her face.
I notice she has a scar running down the right side of her face.
She turns to look at Dante. “I want to leave.”
"Of course," he says, glancing at our group.
"You guys can leave," Nico says. "We'll handle the rest."
"Thank you," Dante says. "I wouldn't have been able to do it without your help.”
"We'll meet soon, Dante," Max says.
Dimitri purses his lips and pats Dante on the back.
"Do you want me to drive you to the airport?" Nico asks.
"No, that's okay,” Dante says.
I say goodbye to my sisters, holding them extra tight because I don't know when I'll see them again. Dante nods at the police before we leave through the emergency exit. It's a long flight of stairs.
"What will happen to the other girls?" Ida asks.
"They'll be taken to a safe house," Dante answers.
"And the staff?" she asks.
"They will all be executed," Dante says.
"The police will let you do that?" Ida asks.
"They're not real police officers," Dante says. "They're hired guns who work for me. They're pretending to be the police to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.”
"Hired guns?" Ida asks.
Ida hasn't been in Dante's life for over two decades. She doesn't know that he's a part of the Italian mafia.
"A lot has changed over the years, Ida," Dante says. "I'll fill you in on everything on our way back to Italy.”
"I don't have a passport," Ida says.
“I had one prepared for you,” Dante says. “Don’t worry about anything.”
The walls are lined with yellow light bulbs that cast long shadows before us. It feels like walking through a strange dream that I can't get out of. Everything in my head is tinted too. It feels like I'm a different person after seeing all the things I did tonight.
"Are you a police officer now, Dante?" Ida asks.
Dante falters mid-step. “No, I’m not.”
Ida stops walking.
"You were with a group of people," she says. "Who were they?"
"Acquaintances," Dante says. "They came here to help me find you."
"Okay, but who were they?"
Dante hesitates for a moment before he speaks.
"There's a lot I need to fill you in on, Ida," he says. "It's best to do it once we get out of here."
"Answer my question, Dante," she says, gritting her teeth.
"They're the heads of mafia families," he says finally.
"And you?" she asks. "What are you?"
"I'm in the mafia too," he replies.
She lets out a shaky exhale.
"Of all the things you could have done with your life," she says, shaking her head. Tears streak down her cheeks once more. "Why?"
"Ida, it was the only way I could think of to find you," he says. "I was an orphan without any family. I needed money and power if I was going to find you."
"Don't you dare blame this on our parents." Ida raises her voice now. "Don't you remember how cruel they were to us? They used to come by every Sunday demanding more and more money. They treated us like dog shit.”
"It's not like that anymore," Dante says.
"Oh, I know exactly what it's like," Ida says. “They might not deal with racketeering or loan sharking anymore, but I know what goes on behind the scenes. They exploit young girls. They deal drugs and arms. They monopolize the dark web, selling videos of..."
"Ida, please listen to me," Dante says, grabbing her shoulders. “It’s not safe for us to be here. Let’s talk about it on the flight.”
"I don't want to go anywhere with you," she says, ripping herself away from him.
"Then you leave me no choice," he says.
He brandishes a syringe and sinks the needle into her arm. My eyes widen as he injects something into her.
"Oh fuck you," she says before she passes out in his arms.
"Why would you do that?" I ask, looking at the needle in his hands. I try not to freak out at the sight of it. I try not to connect my past with the present.
"It's a mild sedative," he says, lifting her into his arms. "She'll wake up by the time we're on the plane."
I follow him quietly as he walks up the rest of the staircase. Some of his men are waiting for us at the end of the exit. They escort us to a black SUV. I watch as Dante straps his sister into the back seat.
I can't stop thinking about the syringe.
My mind knows that he gave her that sedative because we couldn't risk staying here for too long. But potent fear spiked into my bloodstream when I saw how swiftly he did that.
My mother controlled me with pills and potions my entire life. And seeing him do it took me right back to that dark period of my life.
Even when I try to forget it, it's always right there.
"I know you're not comfortable with this," Dante says, getting into the driver's seat. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine," I say, even though my own voice feels like it's coming from the other end of a tunnel.
He takes my hand in his and holds it in both of his.
"It's not fine," he says. "I wish you hadn't seen that."
"She's going to give you hell when she wakes up," I say, glancing back at his sister.
"I would expect nothing less," he says, following my gaze.
My heart calms down. There's so much love in his eyes as he looks at her. He's not the same as my mother. He's a good man.
"I'll try to talk to her," I say. "She doesn't know that you're not like them."
He purses his lips and starts the engine. I place my hand over his cheek and make him look at me.
"You're not," I say. "You're nothing like the people who killed your parents. You know that, right?"
"What if I am?" he asks. "Because no matter how I try to twist it, I still have blood on my hands. I'm a killer. A monster."
I shake my head. "It's not the same, and you know it. I saw it. Your sister will see it too."
"My parents would be ashamed of me," he says, taking a deep breath. He looks up at the ceiling and blinks to keep from crying. "If they could see me now, if they could see who I've become, they would be so ashamed."
"Dante, no," I say. "They'll see someone who's done everything he can to find his sister.
And in the process, you've become a guardian angel for so many trafficked women.
If it weren't for people like you, they wouldn't have any hope.
You didn't just save your sister today. You saved dozens of girls who are working there against their will. "
I run my fingers through his hair and lean in to kiss his temple.
"I don't know if you hear it enough, but I'm proud of you," I say. "I really am. And I'm proud to be yours. Now get us to the airport."
He nods and starts driving.
I rest my head against the window. The sky has lightened now, going from black velvet to a violent red. It's so stunning that it takes my breath away. I never knew something as simple as the sky could make me feel so liberated.
The road hugs the coastline. I stare out at the blue water. There are already some surfers trying to catch the morning waves, bobbing in the water while they wait for their turn.
"I always wanted to have a hobby," I say. "I never had one."
"Do you have something that you would like to do?" he asks.
"I don't know," I say. "But it has to be something I'm good at."
"You don't have to be good at something for it to be a hobby." He shrugs.
"I think I would enjoy it more if I were good at it."
"How about your perfumes?"
"What about them?"
"You could make your own perfume line," he says. "I can fund the research and marketing."
"You would do that?" I ask, looking at him.
"I would be happy to," he says.
I just stare at him for a moment.
"No, I can't ask you to do that,” I say. "I would feel bad if it didn't take off."
"You'll never know until you try," he says.
My chest expands. I've never had anyone believe in me like this. I want to capture this feeling and feel it forever. I nearly feel buoyant.
I watch the surfers until the beach is out of sight.
Everything feels so beautiful that I almost forget the tarot reader's prophecy.
Almost.