29. Federica
FEDERICA
The garden reeks of gasoline.
Valentina stands beside me with her wrists tied and her shoulder pressed to mine. I want to put myself in front of her. I do, as much as the guards allow.
“Take me,” I say to Mateo. “Let her go.”
He laughs softly. “Women. Always so sentimental.”
“She’s been here long enough.”
“She stayed alive because Rafael asked so sweetly.” His mouth curls. “My little brother always got too fond of his toys. His obsession made him sloppy. Now he’s locked up in some mafia basement, and you two are the consequence.”
Valentina flinches.
I step forward. A guard yanks me back.
“When Valerio arrives,” Mateo continues, “he’ll find two burned bodies. While he wails, I’ll take his head.”
“Shut up.” My voice shakes, but I keep it loud. “Don’t you fucking dare lay a finger on my husband.”
Valentina turns to me, eyes widening. “You’re married to my brother?”
“Long story.”
Mateo sighs. “Pretty. Brave. Stupid. I see the appeal. I’d take you for a spin too if I wasn’t in a hurry.”
I force down my disgust and scan the ground.
A sharp log sits near the kindling pile.
I lunge, grab it with both bound hands, and plant myself in front of Valentina.
Mateo’s brows lift.
“Oh, good. Entertainment.”
He draws a machete.
I grip the log tighter and swing when he steps in.
He parries lazily. Wood cracks.
“Careful,” he says. “You’ll hurt those pretty hands.”
“Come closer and find out just how pretty my hands are.”
He laughs and strikes again. The impact jars up my arms. Splinters bite my palms. I swing for his face and miss by an inch.
“Rio will kill you,” I spit.
“Rio will watch you burn.”
I attack again.
This time he stops playing.
His blade chops through the log. Pain opens across both my palms as the wood splits. I cry out and stumble back.
Valentina screams my name.
Mateo raises the machete.
I think of Valerio’s hand in mine. I think of Alessio. I think of all the words I still haven’t said to my husband, all the promises we made.
To have and to hold, until death do us part.
Guess we weren’t lying after all.
Mateo smirks. “I’ll send him your head first.”
A voice calls from the tree line.
“?Sigues compensando con cuchillas, Mateo?”
Mateo freezes.
A man who looks just like him, just younger and skinnier and far more bruised, steps out from the dark.
“Rafael,” Tina whispers.
And I realize we’re fucked.
Because if Rafael is here, then Valerio doesn’t have him.
And if Valerio doesn’t have him?—
We’re both going to die.