57. Ettore
Chapter 57
Ettore
The truck's headlights blind me as it barrels towards us. "Sofia, watch out!" I shout, my body lunged over Carlotta’s, protecting her head, neck and belly.
Sofia jerks the wheel hard, sending us careening off the road. My body slams against the door as we bounce over rough terrain. Sofia drives forward and then makes a sharp U-turn. The tires screech when we get back on the street, now facing the right direction.
"Fuck," I snarl, my heart pounding. "That was too close."
Sofia's knuckles are white on the steering wheel. "I saw it at the last second. I thought we were done for."
I glance in the side mirror, my jaw clenching as I spot the sleek black car swerve halfway through traffic and gain on us. Vittorio. That ruthless bastard won't give up easily.
"He's still on our tail," I growl. "Floor it."
The engine roars as Sofia accelerates. Wind whips through the open window, carrying the acrid scent of burning rubber. My mind races, calculating our odds of escape. For a brief moment, I think of all the lives I’ve lived, the lovers I’ve lost, the lives cut short. If history is anything to go by, the odds aren’t good.
Vittorio's headlights slice through the darkness behind us, illuminating the interior of our car in harsh flashes. I can almost feel his predatory gaze boring into the back of my skull.
"I can't shake him," Sofia says, her voice tight with fear.
A surge of protective rage courses through me. I need to do all I can, take what risk I can. My soulmate, baby, and Sofia’s life depend on it. I reach for the gun tucked in my waistband, the cool metal a comforting weight in my palm.
"Keep driving," I command. "I'll handle this."
As I roll down the window, preparing to lean out and take a shot, a strange sensation washes over me. A pull, like an invisible thread connecting me to something - or someone - in Vittorio's car. It’s a strange whisper of recognition, and I know that if I kill him now, the curse ends.
Never before have I killed all three assassins. One shot and the baby enters this world without a doubt.
"Ettore, what are you waiting for?" Sofia yells. "Shoot him!"
"Just drive," I snap, raising the gun. "And pray to whatever gods you believe in that my aim is true tonight. I’m low on bullets."
Sofia's hands grip the wheel, her knuckles white with tension as she weaves through traffic with preternatural skill, trying to stick to a straight path so the bullet hits the target.
But the car lurches violently as she swerves around a slow-moving sedan, tires screeching against the asphalt. My body slams against the door, but I barely notice, my focus entirely on the pursuit behind us.
"Left!" I bark, spotting a gap in the traffic. Sofia obeys instantly, cutting across three lanes and narrowly avoiding a collision with a honking SUV. The move buys us precious seconds, but Vittorio is relentless, matching our every maneuver.
I take a deep breath and aim for his tire. I press the trigger, but it misses the shot.
“Fuck,” I scream, attempting to shoot again. Perhaps this time, my best bet would be to crack the windshield. But as I’m about to shoot, a sharp scream from the backseat draws my attention. Carlotta's face is contorted in pain, sweat beading on her forehead, and she clutches her stomach.
She’s pale, staring between her legs, where a pool of water drenches the floor.
“Holy shit,” I scream, pulling my head in through the window, reaching for her hand.
“What the hell is happening back there?” Sofia asks, her eyes watching us from the rear-view mirror.
“I… I think the baby’s coming,” Carlotta cries.
I try to find words, but there are none.
“What?” Sofia screams. “Now?”
Carlotta howls in pain again, clenching her teeth.
“Yes, now!” I yell at Sofia. “Drive as safe as you can.”
Carlotta turns to me, her eyes wide with fear. “It… It’s too soon,” she whispers. “The baby is only eight months. It’s too soon. What if-?”
“No!” I roar, grabbing her face and kissing her cheeks over and over again. “This baby is a fighter, cara. Just like us. You can’t speak like that; you can’t think like that.”
She nods, but I know she’s petrified. How can she not be when the same terror runs through my mind? How could this be happening? It is too soon.
And yet, I wonder. What if our baby is helping us? With the assassin at our heels, the baby is trying to enter this world to break the curse that’s hanging over us.
I already know I will do everything to help him or her. This child is our salvation, and he’s telling us so himself.
Another gunshot rings through from behind, but my mind is focused solely on Carlotta. Sofia swerves, now turning lanes to go against the traffic, to confuse the bastard at our heels. He turns behind her, and Sofia goes back in the right lane, crossing over cars to reach as far from him as he can. I look out to see him four lanes in the opposite direction, his eyes trained on us.
"We need... a hospital," Carlotta pants, her green eyes wide with determination. "Now."
I clench my jaw, torn between concern for Carlotta and the urgent need to escape our pursuer. "We can't stop, cara. It's too dangerous."
Carlotta grabs my arm. Her grip is surprisingly strong. "This baby isn't waiting, Ettore. Hospital or not, it's coming."
The rawness in her voice sends a chill down my spine. I've faced down rival families and corrupt officials without flinching, but the thought of delivering a child in the middle of a car chase fills me with dread.
"Sofia," I call to the front, "find us a goddamn hospital, Now!"
As Sofia fumbles with the GPS, narrowly avoiding a collision with a delivery truck, I turn back to Carlotta. Her wheat-brown skin glistens with sweat, her long black hair plastered to her face. Despite the pain etched in her features, there's an unwavering resolve in her eyes that both impresses and terrifies me.
"Hold on, cara," I murmur, gently brushing her hair back. "We'll get you there."
Another gunshot rings out, the bullet pinging off our rear bumper. Carlotta flinches, but her gaze remains steady on mine.
"Promise me," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the chaos surrounding us. "Promise me you'll keep our baby safe no matter what happens to me."
The weight of her words hits me like a punch to the gut. I want to argue, to tell her that nothing will happen to her, but the lie dies on my lips. Instead, I nod, my throat tight with an emotion I can't quite name.
"I promise…," I say, the words feeling like a vow etched in blood. "…with my life."
As I hold Carlotta's gaze, a strange calm washes over me. The chaos of the car chase fades into the background, and suddenly, I'm transported to another time, another place.
When I close my eyes, I'm no longer in the sleek, modern car. Instead, I'm standing in a dimly lit hut in Southern India, the air thick with humidity and the scent of spices. My hands, once adorned with expensive rings, are now calloused and stained with herbs.
"Doctor Sahib!" a man's panicked voice cuts through the patter of rain on the thatched roof. "My wife, she's ready!"
I turn to see a young fisherman, his eyes wide with fear and hope. Behind him, on a makeshift bed of straw, lies his wife, her swollen belly heaving with each labored breath.
"Breathe," I instruct, my voice steady despite the primitive conditions. "Both of you, breathe."
As I approach the laboring woman, I'm acutely aware of the limited supplies at my disposal. A pot of boiling water, some clean rags, and a rusted pair of scissors are all I have to work with. But at this moment, I know it's enough.
"Push," I encourage the woman, my hands guiding the baby's head. "You're doing wonderfully."
The fisherman hovers anxiously nearby, muttering prayers in a mix of Tamil and broken English. I ignore him, focusing solely on the miracle unfolding before me.
With one final, powerful push, the baby slips into my waiting hands. A girl, her cries piercing the night air like a bell of hope.
As I clean the infant with the hot water and wrap her in a clean rag, I feel a surge of pride and wonder. Despite the challenging circumstances, despite the lack of a hospital, I've brought a new life into the world.
The memory fades, and I'm back in the present, the car swerving violently as Sofia narrowly avoids another bullet. But the calm remains, settling over me like a second skin.
I scan the car's interior, my mind racing. "Sofia, any luck with that hospital?" I bark, already knowing the answer.
"Nothing close," she shouts back, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. "Nearest one's at least twenty minutes out if we can shake this bastard!"
I look at Carlotta, her eyes wide with pain and fear, and I know what I have to do.
"Alright," I call out, my voice steady and commanding. "Keep driving. I'm going to deliver this baby if we can’t reach the hospital in time."
Carlotta whimpers in protest, her wheat-brown skin glistening with sweat.
"We'll make do," I mutter, more to myself than anyone else. I shrug off my jacket and roll up my sleeves. "Carlotta, tesoro, look at me."
Her green eyes lock onto mine, filled with a mix of pain and trust that makes my chest tighten. "Remember what I told you about my past lives? How they come back to me?"
She nods weakly, gasping through another contraction.
"I’ve delivered babies with less than we have here," I assure her, my voice steady despite the chaos around us. "Now, I need you to be strong for me. Can you do that?"
"Y-yes," she manages, her soft voice barely audible over the roar of the engine.
I turn to rummage through the car, gathering what I can. My tie becomes a makeshift tourniquet, and the unopened bottle of water in the cupholder is a godsend. I pull out my handkerchief, thanking whatever deity might be listening that it's clean.
"Sofia," I call out, "I need your scarf. And any other cloth you can spare."
As Sofia tosses back her scarf, I lock eyes with Carlotta again. "This isn't ideal, but you're going to be fine. Both of you will be. I promise."
She nods, a small smile breaking through her pain. "I trust you, Ettore."
Those words hit me like a physical blow. Trust. It's not something I'm used to, not in my world. But with Carlotta, it feels... right. I push the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand.
"Now," I say, my voice dropping to a low, commanding tone, "settle back in the seat and part your legs for me. I need to take a look. Let's bring this baby into the world."
She nods, gritting her teeth through another contraction. I shed my suit jacket and roll up my sleeves. The familiar rush of adrenaline courses through me, a twisted excitement I can't deny.
After all, I'm about to be a father.
"Sofia, I need you to find something to cut the umbilical cord," I bark, my tone leaving no room for argument. She leans across, eyes still on the road, and opens the dashboard, handing me a pair of scissors.
As I position myself between Carlotta's legs, I catch a glimpse of our pursuer in the side mirror. Vittorio's car is gaining on us, the sleek black vehicle a harbinger of death.
"He's getting closer," Sofia warns, her knuckles white on the steering wheel.
I growl, "Focus on driving. I'll handle this." My hands are steady as I check Carlotta's progress. She’s dilating at a miraculous rate, telling me what I already knew.
Our baby is fighting to enter the world, to end this curse.
The car swerves violently, and I brace myself against the seat. Vittorio's headlights illuminate the interior, casting long shadows across Carlotta's straining face.
"I can't do this," Carlotta sobs, her resolve crumbling.
I grab her hand, squeezing it hard enough to hurt. "You can, and you will," I snarl. "I've delivered babies in worse conditions than this. You're not dying on my watch."
I hear the ominous sound of a car door opening behind us. Vittorio's making his move.
"Sofia, lose him!" I roar, my focus split between the birth and our impending doom.