Chapter 29 Angelica
ANGELICA
Marta stands at the counter kneading dough for tomorrow's bread, and I sit at the table with Sofia, a children's book open between us, but my attention keeps drifting to the window that overlooks the garden.
Dante hasn't called or updated me all day.
I slept almost until noon today, and Marta took care of Sofia, who now refuses to sleep because Dante isn’t here to read to her.
I'm trying.
Desperately, I'm trying.
But I'm not doing very well with holding myself together.
Even Sofia notices that something is wrong.
"Mama, you're not listening," Sofia says, tugging at my sleeve.
"I am, baby." I force myself to focus on the page. "The rabbit is hiding in the garden, right?"
"No, that was three pages ago." She sighs dramatically and flips back through the book. "See? Now he's at the market."
I pull her closer and kiss the top of her head.
"You're right. I'm sorry. Let's start this page again."
She begins reading, her small finger tracing the words as she sounds them out in her little voice, and I try to concentrate, but my eyes keep returning to the window.
Something is wrong.
I just know it.
Dante would've reported in by now if things were under control.
And remembering how much blood I saw all over his man's shoulder only makes me worry more.
He told me they lost a man, and Luca was hurt.
If Dante gets injured…
"See the little bunny?" Sofia asks gleefully, and I smile and nod.
I know Dante increased security around the villa too—yesterday, there were six men, now I count at least ten.
Why would he do that here, of all places?
Gerard isn't going to attack our home, is he?
Not with a little child inside. No one is that heartless, are they?
"Mama." Sofia tugs my sleeve again. "You're doing it again."
"Sorry." I set the phone face-down on the table and turn my full attention to her. "Keep reading. You're doing great."
Marta glances over her shoulder, flour dusting her hands.
"You worry too much, Ms. Russo. Mr. Santonelli will be home soon."
Her soft smile doesn't reassure me at all.
I nod but don't respond.
Marta has worked for the Santonelli family for years.
She's seen wars before and she knows how to stay calm, but I don't have that skill yet.
Every time a door closes, every time a shadow moves past the window, my heart jumps into my throat.
Sofia finishes the page and looks up at me expectantly.
"Can we go outside? I want to see the fountain."
"Not today," I tell her, pointing at the pages.
How do you tell your child even her backyard isn't safe?
"Why not?"
"Because it's cold. And you need to stay inside where it's warm."
Her face falls.
"But you said we could go outside yesterday. And I could just wear my coat."
"Yesterday was different." I smooth her hair back from her face. "Today, we're staying in."
She doesn't argue, but I can see the disappointment in her eyes.
I hate disappointing her, but without hearing from Dante, I have no clue what's safe and what's not.
When I saw those extra guards outside, I knew he sent them.
And if he upped security, there was a reason for it.
I turn the page and start reading the next section aloud.
Sofia leans against my side, her attention drifting toward the window now too.
She's picking up on the tension.
Children always do.
It's like their sixth sense.
They can tell when the adults around them are tense or scared.
Marta slides a tray of cookies into the oven and sets the timer.
"I'm making hot chocolate. Would Sofia like some?"
I meet her gaze knowingly and smile. Milk will help her sleep, and it's late.
"Yes, please," Sofia says before I can answer.
Marta smiles and pulls milk from the fridge and gets started working on making my child a glass of warm chocolate milk, and it feels so out of place.
I know what Dante is out there doing—fighting this war that has to be ended for us to be safe.
It doesn't feel right to sit here in his kitchen reading a book and sipping hot cocoa, waiting for him to come home safely to us.
But this is what I have to do.
Keep Sofia's world intact and keep her safe from the ugliness outside these walls.
I'm halfway through the next page when the security lights in the garden flicker on, turning midnight to dawn in a flash.
I don’t see anything from my vantage point but something definitely triggered the switch.
The lights are motion-activated.
They only turn on when something—or someone—moves past the sensors, and I freeze in place, knowing if someone is out there moving, they can see in and we can't see out so easily.
Marta notices too.
She sets the milk down and moves toward the window, her expression shifting from calm to alert in an instant.
"Probably just a cat," she says, but her voice lacks conviction and her eyes pore over the backyard and the garden like she's scanning for an intruder.
I stand slowly, keeping Sofia close. "Stay here on this seat."
"Mama—"
"Stay here." I move toward the window, my pulse hammering in my ears.
Suddenly, I'm feeling lightheaded now, hands shaking.
The lights illuminate the east side of the garden now too and two figures step through the side gate with hunched postures and I see weapons in their hands.
They're dressed in dark maintenance jackets, the kind utility workers wear, but there's no one who schedules maintenance in the middle of the night.
Besides, Dante would've told me.
One of them lifts a radio to his mouth and though I can't read his lips or hear him, my instinct takes over.
I lunge back toward the table and grab Sofia's arm. "We need to go. Now."
"What's happening?" Marta asks and I see her face blanch.
She's trembling now too.
"Get to the hall and find the guards." I pull Sofia toward the hallway, my grip tight on her wrist. "Tell them there are intruders in the garden."
Marta moves faster than I've ever seen her move, disappearing through the doorway that leads to the main hall.
I hear her shouting for the guards, a loud shrill that would otherwise sound motherly, and it's the first time I've heard her sound scared.
I drag Sofia toward the interior hall, away from the windows where it's safer.
She's crying now, confused and frightened. "Mama, you're hurting me."
"I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry." I loosen my grip on her so it's not so tight, but I don’t let go.
We reach the stairwell, and I shove her underneath it, into the narrow space where the steps meet the floor.
"Stay here. Don't move. Cover your ears," I bark.
"Mama—"
Gunfire explodes through the courtyard.
The sound is deafening, rapid cracks that echo off the stone walls and shatter the stillness.
I throw myself over Sofia, pressing her small body against the floor.
Her screams are muffled beneath me, but I can feel her trembling.
More gunfire erupts, then shouting in Italian meets my ears.
I hear bullets hitting things, shattering glass and splintering wood, and under it all, the terrified screams of my little girl.
I'm sobbing as I cover Sofia's ears with my hands, pressing hard to block out the noise.
My own heartbeat is so loud I can barely hear anything else.
Sofia's mouth moves, but I can't make out the words. She's terrified and so am I.
The shooting continues for what feels like hours but can't be more than thirty seconds. Then it stops abruptly.
I lay covering her, trembling as I listen for footsteps or shouts, but my ears are ringing so loudly from the gunfire that I can't hear anything else.
My vision is blurry as I blink my eyes open, and my heart is pounding so fast I feel dizzy as I try to focus on calming myself.
I stay where I am, my body shielding Sofia's, and I don't move. I don't breathe.
I wait for footsteps, for voices, for any sign that the danger has passed.
"Angelica?" Marta's voice cuts through the ringing in my ears. "Angelica, it's over."
I lift my head slowly.
Marta crouches next to me, her face ashen but composed.
Behind her, two guards move past with rifles raised, scanning the hallway.
I don’t immediately recognize them, but if they were enemies Marta would be frightened.
Her calm encourages my own as I peel myself off Sofia and wipe my eyes.
"Are you hurt?" Marta asks.
I shake my head.
My hands are trembling so badly, I can barely keep them steady.
"Sofia?"
I pull back, checking her over.
She's crying, her face streaked with tears, but there's no blood or injuries.
Just fear.
"You're okay," I tell her, pulling her into my arms. "You're okay. It's over."
She clings to me, her small fingers digging into my shoulders as I rock her for a few moments, gathering the strength to get up.
Then I stand on shaking legs and carry her out from under the stairwell.
Marta approaches, her hands reaching for Sofia.
"Let me take her upstairs," Marta says gently. "I'll get her a hot bath to help her calm down."
"No." I hold Sofia tighter. "I'm not letting her go."
Marta frowns and sighs.
I don’t mean to be harsh with her, but she can't protect my child like I can. "The men are sweeping the grounds now. They'll make sure it's safe,” she says.
"What happened?" My voice comes out hoarse and I clear my throat to speak again. "Who were they?" Sofia clings to me as I press a hand to the back of her head and kiss her cheek.
"I don't know yet. But they didn't make it past the terrace."
Marta's expression is grim. "The guards shot them down before they reached the house."
I process this slowly.
The men in the garden are dead.
Killed before they could breach the villa and get to Sofia or me.
But that was way too close.
I had no clue Gerard's men were so heartless, that Dante's world was so dangerous.
I thought this home would be safe.
"Where are they now?" I ask.
"Still outside. The guards are handling it."
I nod mechanically as my eyes drift toward the hallway where only steps away the garden door is the only barrier between my little girl and sure death.
My legs feel weak, unsteady.
I sink down onto the bottom step of the staircase, still holding Sofia.
She's stopped crying, but her breathing is ragged, hitching every few seconds.
"It's okay," I whisper into her hair. "We're safe. We're safe."
But I don't believe it myself anymore.
If two men could get through the side gate in seconds, what's to stop a dozen more from doing the same?
Marta disappears down the hall, presumably to check on the guards, but I stay where I am, rocking Sofia gently.
The clock on the wall reads 1:02 a.m.
Dante should be home by now, and where is he?
Where was he when those men came after us?
My fear is slowly being replaced by anger.
Footsteps echo through the hallway.
I tense, pulling Sofia closer.
But it's only one of the guards.
He approaches slowly, his rifle lowered.
"We've secured the perimeter, Ms. Russo. You're safe. You should go to bed." His eyes flick up the stairs and this time, I get the feeling that I'm not wanted here.
He's not trying to encourage me to feel safe.
He's trying to remove me because he knows they're going to have to do some messy things and he doesn't want an audience.
"Who were they?" I ask.
"Enemies," is all he says, and I sigh.
It's not like knowing their names and occupations is going to give me any peace.
I close my eyes. "Does Dante know?"
"He's on his way now."
Good. Dante needs to know.
He needs to come back and be here to fix this.
It's too much. I'm overwhelmed.
The guard lingers for a moment, then turns and heads back down the hall.
I hear him giving orders to the other guards before the door shuts and we're plunged back into silence and the ringing of ears.
Sofia lifts her head from my shoulder and asks, "Is Papa coming home?" And this time, I hear her plainly.
"Yes, baby. Soon."
"I want to see him."
"You will. I promise."
She settles back against me, her breathing finally evening out, and I hold her and wait.
The villa is silent again, but it's not the peaceful silence of this morning.
It's the silence of held breath. Of waiting for the next blow to fall.
Only moments later, I hear cars roll up.
I tense, but there’s no shouting or gunfire, so I relax and stand carefully, still holding Sofia.
My legs protest, but I make my way down the hall toward the front door.
Dante stands near the door, speaking with Enzo.
They’re both very serious, dark scowls carved into their faces.
His jacket is unbuttoned, his shirt rumpled.
There's exhaustion in his posture, in the set of his shoulders.
But when he sees me, his expression shifts.
He's relieved.
He crosses the hall and pulls me—us—into his arms.
Sofia makes a small noise of protest, squeezed between us, but she doesn't pull away.
"You're okay," he sighs, and then presses a kiss to my forehead, and then to Sofia's.
"We're fine." I pull back slightly so I can see his face. "But we need to talk."
He nods and releases us.
Sofia immediately reaches for him, and he lifts her into his arms.
She buries her face in his neck, clinging to him the way she clung to me earlier.
"Upstairs," he says, looking at me. "We'll talk upstairs. And once we get Sofia to bed, I need to show you the safe room.”
"Why?" I ask, already terrified that something worse is going to happen. But Dante doesn't answer.
I follow him through the hall and up the staircase.
He carries Sofia the entire way, whispering to her in Italian.
I catch fragments—you're safe, Papa's here, everything's okay.
But everything's not okay.
Not even close.
Tonight was just a taste of what we could have to live through, and Dante has a lot of explaining to do.
I'll never sleep again.
Not until this war with Antonelli Gerard is over.