Chapter Thirty-One Ella
Chapter Thirty-One
Ella
“What do you mean, let’s go?” I ask, a little stunned.
“My car is parked on the next street. I’ll take you to a train station, and you can go to Rome and then the Irish embassy. They’ll be able to help you,” Sofia explains.
“Wait.” I stare at her. “What?”
“Come on, Ella. Your goon will be back before you know it.”
“Why are you helping me, Sofia?” I ask again, searching her face for something, anything, that tells me I can trust her.
“Because you were kidnapped. And we’re in Sicily… we can’t exactly go to the police.”
My gaze flicks to the door, then back to the window.
This feels too easy.
Could I really just slip out of a bathroom window and disappear?
Surely there are guards watching the restaurant.
“Ella,” she presses, stepping closer, her voice lowering. “I know what it’s like to be watched. To have every move decided for you. If you don’t take this chance now, you might not get another one.”
I hesitate. My stomach twists.
“Are you being watched too?” I ask.
“Not tonight. I snuck out to see friends.” Then, after a beat, she adds, “My father… he’s rich, controlling, and paranoid. I’ve had security trailing me most of my life.”
Her mouth tightens slightly, her eyes trailing away from me for a moment as if remembering. “I’ve learned how to lose them.”
Her gaze snaps back to me. “But not if we stand here debating it.”
My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might give me away.
Freedom is right there. All I have to do is move.
And yet my feet won’t.
Didn’t I say after my last failed attempt at escape, I needed more planning? This is just as spontaneous.
“Your goon will be back with tampons any minute now,” Sofia says, a hint of urgency in her voice. “It’s now or never. He won’t leave you alone long enough to try this again.”
She’s right about that, I know it deep in my bones. What if this is my only chance?
I move before I can overthink it. I can’t miss this opportunity for freedom.
Sofia climbs out first to make sure nobody is out there. When she gives me the all-clear, I squeeze through the small window and land in a little courtyard surrounded by buildings on all sides.
I duck behind a bush, my pulse too loud in my ears.
Behind me, Sofia leans back through the window, pulling the bamboo screen in front of it. Then she points to a small gate on the opposite side. I nod, forcing myself to focus.
She gestures to our feet and slips off her heels. I follow, tugging off my strappy sandals, the cool ground sharp beneath my bare feet.
We move along the walls, staying in the shadows until we reach the gate.
Sofia signals for me to wait and slips ahead to check the street.
Every second stretches.
What if they’re already looking for me? Has Alonso noticed I’m gone?
Sofia returns, grabs my hand, and pulls me through the gate into a dimly lit side street.
Just like that, we’re out.
We put our shoes back on and Sofia hooks her arm through mine. Her pace is steady as we walk down the quiet street like we belong here.
I don’t understand how she can be so calm. All I want to do is run and put as much distance as possible between us and that restaurant.
My pulse is racing. My skin feels too tight. Every sound makes me flinch.
“I’ve learned that the secret to a successful escape is to make it look like you aren’t escaping,” she says, as if she can hear my thoughts. “If you run or rush, you draw attention to yourself. You want to blend in.”
She glances at me. “So right now, we’re just two friends having a fun night out.”
She studies my face. “Though you look like you’re freaking out. Take a few deep breaths.”
“If I look like I’m freaking out, it’s because I am,” I snap, my voice sharper than intended. “Walking slowly goes against every instinct I have right now.”
We reach a street lined with restaurants. People crowd the sidewalks. Laughter, music, and the smell of food hit me all at once.
We disappear into the flow of bodies.
“I get that you’re in full flight mode,” Sofia says. “But if you don’t want to draw attention, you need to relax.”
Easy for her to say. She moves as if she’s done this a hundred times, like this is nothing.
Meanwhile, adrenaline floods my system, making everything feel too bright and too loud.
A shout behind us makes me jump. I glance over my shoulder, heart in my throat, but it’s just a group of young men laughing and shoving each other.
Still, my chest doesn’t loosen. Sweat gathers on my forehead. I’m flushed all over.
“Where is your car?” I ask Sofia.
“I decided it was best to leave it behind. It was too close to the restaurant and the guards by the doors.”
“So, what’s next, then?”
She looks at me and grins. “Shall we go for a drink? There’s a great little bar down this street.” She points to a neon-lit sign a few yards away.
I gape at her. She can’t be serious.
“Think about it. When they search for you, the last place they’d expect you to be is at a bar.”
“True. But I don’t think I have the nerves to pull off relaxed and happy. Plus, I need to get out of Sicily before they check the train and ferry stations.”
“Good point,” she says, just as her phone lights up. She glances at it and types a quick reply. “My friends are wondering where I am.”
We keep moving.
The sound of engines behind us cuts through the street chatter. I turn and spot two motorbikes coming straight toward us.
I press my palm to my chest, gasping.
Alonso is on one of them.
How did he find me so fast?
Sofia spins, sees them, and everything changes.
She grabs my hand.
“Run.”
We bolt.
My sandals slap against the pavement, my breath tearing out of me as we sprint down the street. People shout as we shove past them. I hear engines revving behind us. They’re getting closer.
We hit the corner and turn left.
A van screeches to a stop right in front of us.
The side door flies open, and a huge man lunges out and grabs me around the waist. I scream as I’m yanked off my feet and dragged inside.
The world tilts as he shoves me onto a seat, but I slip off and hit the floor. I scramble away toward the back of the van, my hands sliding on the cold metal as I try to push myself up.
Who are these people? Gualtiero’s men?
They have to be. They found me.
But then Sofia jumps in, and my head snaps toward her.
What?
Are these guys here to help us?
The van jerks forward as it takes off. The guy turns, bracing himself in the open doorway, and pulls a gun from his jacket.
My stomach goes into freefall.
Oh god. Alonso.
He raises it and fires as the motorcycles reach us. The sound is deafening in the confined space. My ears ring instantly, and my hands fly up to cover them.
Another shot.
Another.
The van swerves.
I grab for anything, my fingers catching on the metal ridges of the wall.
My heart rate skyrockets. I feel light-headed.
I glance at Sofia. She’s gripping a handle near the roof, steady, focused, staring out the open door like this is nothing.
Another shot cracks through the air. I back into the furthest corner, curling in on myself and covering my head with my arms. I’m shaking all over.
A scream tears through the van. Sofia’s.
I jerk up.
The doorway is empty. The man is gone.
Oh god, has he been shot?
Gunfire keeps exploding outside, echoing off the buildings, each shot making me flinch.
I press myself into the floor, trying to make myself invisible.
My breath comes in sharp, shallow bursts. I can’t get enough air.
Oma. Rhia. Lex.
Their faces flash through my mind, too fast, too bright.
I’m not going to see them again. This is it.
The van lurches violently, then stops.
More gunshots ring through the night.
Then Alonso is in the open doorway.
He climbs in, gun aimed straight at Sofia.
Everything inside me goes still.
Is he going to shoot her?
The back door flies open, and I pitch backward, almost falling out. Hands grab me. One of Gualtiero’s men lifts me and carries me to a waiting SUV, shoving me into the backseat before sliding in.
The door slams, and we’re moving again.
I’m shaking uncontrollably, every muscle trembling. The gunshots still echo in my ears. People died.
Because of me.
Nausea surges up my throat.
“I need to—” My voice breaks. “Stop the car.”
No one responds.
The SUV speeds down the road, leaving the city behind. I barely register the turns or the darkness outside.
“Stop the car,” I yell this time. “I’m going to be sick.”
The car jolts to a halt. My hands won’t cooperate as I fumble with the handle. When the door finally opens, I nearly fall out.
I stumble onto the side of the road, bile burning up my throat. I throw up what little dinner I had, my body folding in on itself.
Footsteps sound behind me. Two of them.
They stay close, hovering, but don’t touch me.
As if I’d run. I can barely stay upright.
My hands brace against my knees as another wave hits. My whole body shakes. I feel completely drained.
When it’s over, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, my vision swimming.
“Get in the car,” one of them says.
I don’t have it in me to argue, so I let them guide me back. My head falls against the headrest. I close my eyes, trying to block everything out.
The noise. The movement. The last hour.
In what feels like no time at all, the car rolls to a stop.
I force my eyes open.
We’re back at Gualtiero’s mansion. He stands on the steps, waiting.
My breath falters all over again.
He’s not moving.
Even from here, I can sense his fury.
Cold. Controlled. Worse than anything I’ve seen before.
A fresh wave of fear curls through me, tightening around my throat until I can barely swallow.
The door is yanked open, and Gualtiero reaches inside, grabbing my hands and dragging me out.
His grip is iron, his face carved from stone.
Rage radiates off him, his eyes dark and unreadable.
I’ve seen him angry before. But this is something else.