Chapter 53

Chapter fifty-three

Farfalla. I hear my father’s voice through the darkness. I don’t know if he’s calling me to the other side or if I’m hallucinating. Wake up. You are a Capuano and Capuanos don’t quit. Wake up!

The tone shifts.

It morphs into a feminine voice that quivers at the edges. “Cipi, wake up.”

I know that voice.

A sob catches in her throat. “Cipi, wake up.” Her nails dig into my shoulder. “Come on, please.”

I blink against the darkness. My head pounds as if someone took a hammer to the inside of my skull. I chide myself for not being more vigilant in my surroundings. The top of my scalp scrapes against something rough like brick, and the cold floor presses into my back.

“Cipi!”

I know that voice.

It’s Lucia!

“Cipi, wake up,” she begs again, shaking me hard enough to rattle my brain.

My lashes flutter. A pale ceiling with water stains comes into view.

Groaning, I turn my head to the side and see Lucia sitting beside me.

“Lucia.”

She helps me into a sitting position with my back against the brick wall. I feel groggy.

“You’re okay,” I whisper. I open my arms to hug her.

Her hair is a mess and she has bags under her eyes, but she’s alive.

“Thank god you woke up,” she hugs me back tight. “I was worried that you were going to die on me.”

I reach up and run my fingers through my hair, wincing as it grazes the spot where I got hit. It’s sore, but the skin didn’t break.

“Where are we?”

“Some abandoned factory,” Lucia whispers. “We’re on the top floor, I think. They dragged me up a set of stairs when they brought me. I was blindfolded.”

“What happened?”

Lucia sighs. “I got ambushed in the parking lot after Matteo got shot. A black van with tints pulled up, men in masks jumped out and dragged me inside. They tied me up and blindfolded me. Next thing I knew I was here…with them.” She nods toward two men that stand against the opposite wall.

They’re armed with rifles slung across their chests.

Stone expressions are plastered across their faces.

“Guards?” I mutter. “Those aren’t our men.”

“No, they’re not.” Lucia traces her fingers in the layer of dirt on the concrete.

“Did you talk to them?”

“Yes, they just told me to shut up and be glad I wasn’t tied up. I was scared to death when they carried you in and dropped you beside me. What happened?”

“I was ambushed in my study. They hit me on the head and I blacked out,” I grumble. “Someone must have been watching me, turned off the cameras, and broke into my house.”

I scan the room.

Exposed beams, broken crates, dim lighting, and a rusty chain pulley system surround us.

An old freight elevator shaft is to the right but sealed shut.

The guards are standing in front of the only door to freedom.

On the far wall is a window that opens onto a fire escape.

I know this place, but I just can’t put my finger on it.

“The person who carried you in was wearing a mask and gloves. He told the other two guards he’d be back,” Lucia whispers. “His voice was a bit muffled.”

I slam my fist into the floor. “Nothing makes sense. I found some things in my dad’s desk. They were letters Salvatore wrote to Francesca.”

Lucia’s eyes widen. “Why would Salvatore write letters to your father’s lover?”

“Apparently Salvatore was not only best friends with my dad but he was best friends with Francesca too. But the thing is Salvatore didn’t see her as a friend, he was in love with her.

He was furious when Francesca chose my dad over him and vowed revenge.

Tonight Rosa emailed me the Marconi wedding photos.

A man in the wedding photo looked exactly like Bruno.

I-I just can’t believe it. It can’t be true. ”

The thought of betrayal infuriates me and I need answers.

“Who are you working for?” I yell to the guards as I struggle to my feet.

The first guard clutches his gun tighter. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he snaps. “Don’t move.”

“Or what?” My legs are shaky and I lean against the wall to support myself.

Lucia stands next to me.

He steps forward, just enough to flex authority. “Or I’ll shut your mouths permanently. I’m getting tired of hearing you two yapping.”

I don’t flinch. I meet his gaze head-on. “It’s clear that’s not what your boss wants. If he wanted us dead, we would already be. If you kill us without his approval, you may end up being dumped into a river.”

The guard’s lip twitches, but he doesn’t reply. He snarls and goes back to his post.

I breathe a sigh of relief. Whoever is behind this wants us alive for some reason.

Just then, footsteps echo on the stairwell outside the door.

Tension in the air shifts, even the guards stiffen.

The footsteps are louder now.

We stand with bated breath, like an audience awaiting the final act instead of hostages.

Two masked men dressed in suits holding guns enter the room. One is holding a silk bag in his gloved hand. The second man jerks his thumb at the two guards to leave the room. The guards exit without a word.

The first man walks across the room and places the bag on a crate. He places his gun next to it.

The second man leans against the beam with his gun pointed at us.

Something in my stomach twists.

I recognize the height of these men.

Their body structure.

It can’t be.

The first man opens the silk bag. He pulls out objects one at a time.

It’s a chess board and wooden pieces.

Glimpses of polished golden rosewood catch my attention and I gasp.

It’s my father’s chess board.

He spills the remaining pieces across the crate, letting them clatter like bones.

Then the man arranges them like he’s going to play.

King. Bishop. Knight. Rook. Pawn.

In the center of the board he places the queen.

Drawing a knife from his pocket, he raises it high and brings it down hard.

Crack.

Steel slams into the wood.

The blade slices through the queen’s crown, burying itself into the body.

My heart flutters. Lucia grabs my arm.

This is a foretelling of my future.

The first man turns to face us and the second man moves to his side.

In one fluid motion they both rip off their masks revealing two faces I’ve trusted my entire life.

Lucia screams.

I don’t.

I just stare, shock numbing me, and betrayal shattering my soul.

The monsters aren’t strangers.

They’re family.

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