Chapter 8
Sophie/Cara
My sister is practically unchanged from the last time I saw her. Unlike me, time and circumstances haven’t altered her appearance. Her tight ringlets still hang just below her ears. An oversized raincoat conceals her thin stature, a ballcap stretched over her brown eyes.
If I weren’t a changed person entirely, I could imagine it hasn’t been a day since I last saw her. Enzo has returned to his busy work, and we’re still staring at each other.
My first instinct is to rush to her, to cry with relief to see someone I know, someone with a connection to my past. My baby sister.
The girl who was latched at my side throughout our terrifying, unusual childhood.
For a long time, I fought to protect her.
I did whatever I could to spare her my father’s wrath.
Time has complicated us.
The choices we’ve made in our lives have complicated us.
As I look at her, I see my failures. I see the horrors I suffered to save her life, to have her standing in front of me. She has no idea what Xavier and I have endured to ensure she continues breathing. As quickly as I wanted to hug her, I want to strangle her in equal measure.
She is no longer someone I can trust, and given that she’s in Madrid, blocking my front door, I’m right not to.
She’s here, which means she’s found my location.
Which means others have found my location.
Still shaking from the confrontation on the street, I begin to wonder if they were just drunk or if their plan to get me alone was premeditated. I question the people I encountered at the café this morning, the eyes that tracked me through the market. Anyone could be an enemy.
“Sophia,” she whispers finally, smiling like she’s seen a ghost.
To hear her voice is jarring. Reality kicks in. This is real.
My first words to her come out measured. I speak them slowly to ensure she understands. “ I don’t want to see you .”
She didn’t expect that. The smile vanishes from her face as I trek the rest of the stairs, brushing past her to unlock my door. She slips her hand through the barrier to prevent it from closing behind me. By the time her foot is in the doorway, my hand is gripping a gun, and it’s aimed at her face.
Her eyes drift from the end of the barrel to my own.
If we didn’t know each other before, we’re complete strangers now.
She’s my sister, Xavier.
Don’t do this.
We can find another way.
It was a lifetime ago when I was that na?ve.
Those pleadings fill me with shame. That pointless begging led Xavier to believe there was no way through this but out.
He couldn’t bear to hurt me, and it caused him to take risks he wouldn’t have made before.
He never blamed me, but I know. Keeping Victoria alive led me to this place, here on the run.
God knows what life Xavier is living because of my sentimentality for family.
A family that turned on me at the first chance they got.
“Sophie, you don’t want to shoot me,” she says.
“How did you find me?”
“You want the long story or the short?” She smiles.
A joke that doesn’t land, that’s all she has to offer. I’m in no mood to smile or laugh or pretend I care about anything but finding out what my next steps need to be.
Her smile fades at my continued silence, and she cuts right to the chase.
“Dominic Strata. His name is Dominic Strata. He’s grappling for his family’s seat.
With Papa’s influence, he’s poised to win.
Chicago received word through our taps, and I heard your name come up.
I was surprised… considering it was widely believed that you were dead.
At least, that’s what your husband let everyone think. ”
My husband.
She knows about Xavier.
“Vito is looking for me?”
She nods. “I booked the first plane out, expecting I’d find no trace of you. Your information was sold to the underground the moment your passport photo linked to your location. Dominic put out a heavy sum for reward. Our father has him around his fat finger.”
With a scoff, she tosses her bag onto the ground, shutting the door.
My gun follows her as she observes my living space, eying the punching bag, the lack of food in the fridge, the film still covering the untouched oven to the bed in the corner.
It’s a pitiful excuse for an apartment, devoid of any warmth or luxury, the exact opposite of what we’re used to.
My wrist stabilizes. “And are you here to claim that reward?”
“I’m here because you came to me when I was in trouble. I’m returning the favor. That’s all. It’s to serve my own selfish conscience. ”
“Right on brand for you.”
She nods, taking no offense at my insult. “We can never escape this, Sophie. It’s who we are. Our social circle is too dangerous… Our enemies will only settle when we’re unable to talk.”
“Well, you’ve warned me. Consider your conscience settled.”
She gazes at me openly. I fight the urge to look down when I notice her eyes at work, scanning my features.
My weary eyes. The scar on my cheekbone.
My pale complexion. I must be a poor comparison to the woman who approached her all those years ago, brimming with hope for a fresh start with the man I loved.
That woman could smile. She could laugh and enjoy things.
“You’ve changed,” she whispers, bracing herself with an inhale. She takes a seat at my table, unable to look in my eyes when she asks, “Were the rumors true?”
“Rumors?”
She blanches before even getting a word out. “Some men started talking after your disappearance made headlines. They said some things… horrible things…”
The gun trembles in my hand, a noise we both can hear. I lower it, disarming before her. Whatever she’s heard has scared the hell out of her.
I doubt it’s anything compared to the truth.
My silence speaks for me enough. I throw the gun onto the table right in front of her. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it. We don’t need to rehash the past.”
“I'm not here to kill you.”
“Stop pretending you have a heart, Vic. You don’t. You don’t give a shit about family. You don’t give a shit about me.”
“You’re wrong.”
I scoff, too tired for this. I have better things to do. I need to plan.
“I know you can’t trust me and I'm not asking you to. When you left, it took me a long time to realize the guts it took for you to warn me and convince Xavier to stop what he was sent to do. I was brainwashed. I wanted to make Papa pay so badly that I couldn’t see anything else.
But when I heard that you were gone… I remembered what I said to you, and I felt…
awful. I’ve lived with that until about a week ago when I saw your face on our intelligence. ”
“Our? Nicky’s?”
She shakes her head and looks down. “No, I’m not… I’m not with him anymore. Isaac is stronger than he is. He has connections. When I need to disappear, he helps me out.”
“And you’re with him? This Isaac?”
“No, he isn’t like that. He’s cold-blooded.”
I'm not even surprised. “He’s with Chicago? What is he? A capo? A soldier?”
“He’s outside the Mafia. He has a hideout in Reykjavík. I’ve been there once when Nicky’s operation fell apart. He hid me for months. I’ve been flying under the radar since.”
“And this man is helping you out of the goodness of his heart?”
She gives me a deadpan look. “There are decent people in this world, Sophia. He was an associate of Nicky’s. He visited Chicago frequently. He saw me in trouble, and he helped me.”
“I don’t buy it.”
“I help him out, too. I became pretty good with a computer when Nicky was selling in the underground.”
In this life, nothing comes free. “And you trust him?”
“As much as I can trust anyone. That doesn’t say much, but it’s something.” She chuckles. “I trust him a hell of a lot more than our father or Dominic, that’s for sure.”
The cold-hearted fury I could have unleashed two minutes ago has settled enough for me to deposit myself into the chair across from her. The day has taken its toll on me. “Listen, if you’re not here to kill me, let me thank you and be done with it. You should get as far away from me as you can.”
She tilts her head, eyes slanting in disbelief.
“You’d let me leave without asking about him? Really?”
She doesn’t have to say his name for me to know who she’s referring to.
“I don’t know if I want to know,” I whisper, waiting for her to tell me about my husband. She doesn’t, and that terrifies me enough not to ask, hoping she’ll drop the subject.
She inhales while standing. “We can save that for another time. For now, let’s grab what you need and get as far away from this place as we fucking can.”
She gathers some of my clothes, stuffing them into her duffel bag. I watch her, eyes wide.
“Victoria, stop. I'm not going with you.”
“If you want to live?—”
The words die on her lips as our movement halts, both of us hearing tires squeal to a stop on the cobblestone pavement.
With one grave look at each other, we spring into action.
She scoops up the gun from the table. I’m grabbing my bag, stuffing in whatever I can find that holds any significance.
Mostly weapons I’ve stashed around the apartment.
“Come on!”
“Wait, my passport!”
“That name is no good.” She thrusts a new booklet into my hands. “You’re lucky I came prepared. Let’s fucking go!”
As she grabs the doorknob, it recoils back on her, shaking violently.
Hearing low voices speaking in Italian sends me spiraling, reminding me that I prepared for this. My eyes lock on the window by the kitchen. I lead her to it, shoving the glass open.
“I think she’s in there!”
She climbs through first, and I follow closely behind her, my feet landing on unstable shingles.
Vickie grabs my arm, cursing as we slide to the edge.
I unwind the chain ladder, releasing it to full length alongside the brick building.
It clatters as I test my weight upon it, catching Vickie wince as I scale towards the ground.
Halfway down and I'm heaving. Dio , it’s high up.
As my feet hit the ground, the initial sigh of relief I release is replaced by dread. Icy, seeping through my veins.
The streetlight’s gone. Gone .
Victoria screams, but a rough hand is already closing over my mouth. A scratchy voice hissing in my ear drowns her out. The voice of someone who can barely speak.
“You could’ve fucking killed me earlier, you know that?”
The market wasn’t a coincidence. They’d already found me. My chest tightens as he cages me in, locking my arms when I push against him.
“Let her go!” Victoria shouts, the chain rattling louder as she pulls herself down. I want to tell her to stay there, to stop trying, that those who help me can only suffer. As his clammy hand tightens around my face, I pull open my mouth and sink my teeth into him as hard as I can.
He hisses in pain, pulling back just an inch, but that inch sets me free.
With no time to reach into my bag, I whirl on him before I run, but his hand sinks into my hair.
In the span of seconds, I’m on the ground, screaming, watching the lights in the buildings around us brighten as he drags me back to him.
In the darkness, I feel everything. His fingers tear at my hair.
His hands pin me down. His strength far surpasses mine, but I'm programmed to fight. Deep down, I know I’ll fight this until I can’t anymore.
Tears stream from my eyes as he slams my face into the pavement hard enough to produce a pitched ring that drowns out his words.
My vision blurs, but I spin, pawing at his clothes, trying to get out from under him.
This isn’t happening .
It’s a nightmare.
Wake up.
As hard as I try, my body continues to wrestle out of his grasp.
I feel an object at his side, something sharp he suddenly tries to get out of my grasp, but my hands are already around it.
When the blade slices his face, he gasps before growling.
Even as I scramble out from under him, looking up to see Victoria nearly at the edge, my thoughts change.
Don’t run. Stay.
Something ice cold washes over me, a familiar feeling I’ve known only once—in Greece.
I was afraid of it then. Now, it drives me. It propels my tired body toward the broken brick knocked loose from the building. As he lifts himself, clutching his bloodied face, I feel no urge to run.
Victoria’s on the ground now, jerking my arm. “Let’s go! While he’s down, let’s go!”
She emits a strangled sound when my arm swings the brick into his face, sending him onto his side, flush against the damp ground.
That grotesque sound becomes something else when I climb over him, ensuring he stays down forever.
It’s so easy to envision my enemies. At first, it was only my father.
Now, I can’t even picture all their faces. There are just so many.
The brick drops from my hands, clattering onto the road.
Coming down from the surge of adrenaline, I straighten my knees, glancing at Victoria as sirens blare through the tense air, creeping closer. Strata’s men have broken through, finding us gone.
“What the hell is going on down there?” someone calls out from one of the windows in Spanish, unable to see the massacre below.
Without another word, Victoria grabs my hand, dragging me further into the darkness.