Chapter 28
Istep out of the library, blinking as the setting sun hits my eyes. "Ready to head back, Miss Falcone?" Alex asks, his hand already on the car door.
My stomach growls, reminding me that I've barely eaten all day. The thought of returning to that suffocating mansion makes my chest tight. I'd have to face Antonio's knowing look, admit he was right about needing dinner. Another small humiliation in a week full of them.
"Actually," I say, forcing a smile, "I'm starving. Can we grab something to eat?"
Alex's expression hardens. "I'm sorry, Miss Falcone, but that's not allowed. We need to return directly to the house."
"Please, Alex?" I beg, looking at the small sandwich shop across from the library. "I really don't want to eat at the house right now."
Alex's jaw tightens as he glances between me and the shop. "Miss Falcone, Mr. Bonventi was clear about—"
"Look, it's right there. We can see it from here. Five minutes, tops."
Alex is quiet for a moment as he looks at the sandwich shop across the street.
"I haven't eaten all day," I add, which isn't entirely a lie. My appetite's been non-existent since Enzo ordered my things packed.
Alex sighs heavily. "Fine. But you stay in the car while I get it. Understood?"
I nod quickly, afraid he'll change his mind. "Yes, and thank you."
We drive across the street, and Alex parks the car in front of the sandwich shop.
"What would you like?" Alex asks, his hand on the door handle.
"Turkey on wheat, no mayo," I reply. "And an iced tea, please."
He nods and steps out of the car. I watch him walk into the shop.
My eyes wander, taking in the street scene. A group of college students passes by, laughing about some shared joke, their backpacks slung carelessly over their shoulders. They remind me of my friends back in LA – Megan's infectious laugh, the way we'd grab coffee between classes.
I'm so lost in thought that I almost miss the three men in dark suits approaching the shop. Something about their presence seems off, and it sets off alarm bells in my head.
One of them reaches for the door as the other pulls out a gun.
My heart leaps into my throat. "Alex!" I scream, but it's too late.
The sound of gunshots erupts, echoing off the buildings.
Through the shop window, I see people screaming, diving for cover, coffee cups and laptops forgotten.
Alex stumbles backward, red blooming across his chest. His eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second before he falls, disappearing from view.
I can't breathe. This can't be happening. My hands shake as they fumble for the door handle, my mind screaming at me to run, to help, to do something – anything.
The door won't budge.
It's fucking locked.
Suddenly, a deafening crash. Pain explodes across my face as glass rains down on me. I throw my arms up, feeling sharp stings as shards slice my skin.
A gloved hand reaches through the broken window. I scream, trying to scramble away, but there's nowhere to go. The door flies open, and I'm yanked out of the car with brutal force, my shoulder wrenching painfully.
"Shut up!" a deep voice snarls. A thick arm wraps around my waist, pinning my arms to my sides. I struggle, kicking wildly, but it's like fighting against a steel beam. My heel connects with something solid, earning a grunt, but the arm only tightens.
Something presses against my face – a damp cloth that smells somewhat sweet. I try to hold my breath, but panic takes over. I gasp, inhaling the chemical scent.
The world starts to spin. My limbs grow heavy, useless. I can hear shouting, screaming, car alarms, but it all sounds like it's underwater. Someone's yelling about cops, about hurrying up.
As darkness creeps in at the edges of my vision, I feel something being thrown over my head. The last thing I'm aware of is the scratch of rough fabric against my skin, and a final, terrifying thought: Enzo was right. I wasn't safe outside the mansion after all.
Then everything fades to black.