Chapter 31 Angelica
ANGELICA
The generator hums beneath the floor with a constant vibration that rattles through the concrete walls of the safe room.
I've been counting the rhythm for the past hour, trying to focus on anything other than the muffled explosions coming from somewhere above us.
Each blast sends a tremor through the foundation, and I tighten my arms around Sofia, pulling her closer against my chest.
Two of Dante's men stand near the door with their rifles held at ready positions.
I don't know their names, and Dante never introduced them.
They came in after Dante left and Marta opened the door.
After what happened yesterday, I'm terrified to fall asleep now.
Sofia squirms in my lap, pressing her small hands over her ears.
"Mama, what's that noise?"
"Just fireworks, baby." I hate lying to her, but what else can I tell her?
That her father is out there fighting for our lives and killing men so we can hopefully be safe now?
I'm working so hard to keep her away from his world, but it's beginning to feel like that's impossible.
"I don't like fireworks," she whispers, and I'm grateful she's not asking to go see them.
I don't like that she's scared, but in this case, scared and safe is better than curious and dead.
"I know, but they'll be over soon." I stroke her dark, soft hair beneath my fingers. "Close your eyes. I'll tell you a story."
She nestles against me, and I feel her little heart pounding.
She really is scared, so I search my mind for something familiar and soothing.
My mind latches onto the story I was busy reading her in the kitchen because it's the most recent in my memory.
"Once upon a time," I begin, my voice barely audible over the generator's hum, "there was a little rabbit who lived in a beautiful garden."
Another explosion rocks the room.
Dust drifts down from the ceiling, coating my hair and Sofia's shoulders.
She flinches, and I pull her tighter.
"The rabbit loved his garden," I continue, forcing my voice to stay steady.
But even I'm having a hard time holding it together now.
"He had carrots and lettuce and all the vegetables he could ever want."
Marta sits on the bed along the wall across from us with her hands folded in her lap.
Her lips move in silent prayer, and her beads are hidden in the folds of her skirt. “Hail Mary, full of grace…”
I haven't prayed in years, not since I left the church and the life it demanded of me.
But watching her now, I wish I still had that kind of faith that offers comfort when there's nothing else to hold onto.
Right now, I could use that anchor and all I have is a promise Dante gave me, that he'd come back to me.
The security monitor mounted on the wall flickers with grainy black and white footage.
I can see the garden from multiple angles—the fountain, the terrace, the stone pathways.
Smoke drifts across the cameras, obscuring the view.
Shadows move through the haze.
I can't tell if they're Dante's men or Antonelli's.
"But one day," I say, my eyes fixed on the monitor, "a storm came to the garden. The rabbit was scared, so he hid in his burrow where it was safe and warm."
Sofia's breathing begins to even out.
Her grip on my shirt loosens slightly.
I keep talking, spinning the story into something longer, something that will carry her away from this concrete tomb and the violence happening above us.
The radio on the belt of one of the guards crackles to life.
Static, then a voice I recognize immediately.
Dante's voice barks through the speaker.
"East wall is breached. Fall back to secondary positions. I repeat, fall back to secondary—"
The transmission cuts off, replaced by more static, and the guard glances at me, slowly turning the volume down as he observes my reaction.
I don't want to be cut off and have it hidden from me if things are going wrong, but I also don't want Sofia hearing that.
The guard adjusts the radio, trying to find the signal again.
He turns the dial, and fragments of voices filter through—shouting, gunfire, someone screaming orders I can't make out now because the volume is too quiet.
"What's happening?" I ask him, neglecting my duty to my daughter.
But I hold her tense body against me.
The guard glances at me, then back at the radio.
"They're holding the line, Ms. Russo."
"But the wall—"
"Is being defended." He glances down at Sofia and says, "Stay calm."
Stay calm.
As if that's possible when the man I love is somewhere out there where all those tiny explosions are happening.
As if I can pretend everything is fine while Sofia sits in my lap, terrified and confused.
Another explosion rumbles the room.
This one is closer, louder.
The walls shake, and the overhead light flickers.
Sofia whimpers, burying her face in my chest.
"It's okay," I whisper into her hair. "You're okay."
And I believe that Dante trusts this safe room to protect us.
If nothing else, we'll survive, but I don't want to just survive.
I want Dante and I want a happy life.
Marta's prayer grows louder as she continues the Rosary.
"Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."
I close my eyes and try to focus on her words, letting them wash over me.
"Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death." I begin to mouth the phrases with her, still stored in my memory from years ago, and I rock Sofia to distract her.
The hour of our death… The phrase lingers in my mind like an omen.
Is that what this is?
Are we sitting here waiting for the moment when Antonelli's men break through the door and finish what they started?
The radio crackles again.
This time, it's Enzo's voice.
"North perimeter secure. Repeat, north perimeter secure. All units hold your positions."
One of the guards exhales slowly.
"That's good. North side was our weakest point," he says so quietly, I think he doesn't want me to hear.
The other guard nods but says nothing.
His eyes remain fixed on the door, his finger resting near the trigger guard of his rifle.
I shift Sofia slightly, adjusting her weight in my lap.
She's heavier than she used to be, growing so fast.
Soon, she won't fit in my arms anymore and she'll be too old for stories to distract her from heavy life circumstances.
If we survive this.
The thought makes me shudder as she shakes my arm.
"Mama, finish the story," Sofia murmurs into my chest, and I swear I hear her growing sleepy.
I swallow hard and continue.
"The rabbit stayed in his burrow all through the storm. He listened to the thunder and the rain, but he wasn't afraid because he knew his home would keep him safe."
The monitor flickers again.
I watch as a figure moves across the garden camera, running toward the house.
He's too far away for me to identify, but I can see the rifle in his hands.
"And when the storm finally passed," I say, my voice cracking, "the rabbit came out of his burrow. The garden was still there. The sun was shining. Everything was safe again."
Sofia's eyes are closed now, her breathing slow and even.
She's fallen asleep while the world unravels around her.
I envy that ability to find peace in the middle of the storm, then quickly realize that I am her peace.
And Dante is mine—and my peace is being threatened.
Marta finishes her prayer and crosses herself.
"God will protect them," she says quietly. "He always has."
I want to believe her, but all I can think about is the fact that Antonelli Gerard will stop at nothing to end Dante's life.
I get Sofia situated and stand up, moving toward the monitor. "What's happening?" I ask in a low tone so I don't wake her, and I'm shocked the gunfire outside these walls isn't keeping her up.
"I don't know," the first guard admits. "Communications are breaking down."
Breaking down? That can't be good.
If Dante's men can't coordinate, if they're scattered and disorganized, Antonelli will pick them off one by one.
Marta moves to stand beside me and studies the screen too.
"I can't see anything through the smoke. The cameras are useless."
"Can we switch to different angles?" I ask.
"I've tried. They're all the same," the guard grumbles and backs away from us, and Marta pushes a few buttons.
All I want is to know this is almost over and the man I love is safe.
My legs are numb from sitting on that hard bed for so long, and my lower back hurts from standing on the concrete.
The monitors show nothing, and without radio contact, all we have to go on is that there are still gunshots being heard.
I hate this.
The radio erupts with noise again.
This time, it's Rico's voice speaking frantically.
"We've got men down on the east terrace. I need backup now. Now!"
Men down.
The words send ice through my veins.
How many?
Who?
Is Dante one of them?
My hand hovers by my mouth and Marta's arm comes around my shoulder.
"Please," I whisper, too quietly for anyone to hear. "Please let him be okay."
"It's okay, child," Marta whispers, but I know she has no clue if it really is okay.
I can see the fear in her eyes too.
The gunfire above us intensifies.
I can hear it more clearly now, closer than before.
The guards move to either side of the door and ready their weapons, and I cower back with them, Marta still joined to me at the shoulder.
"Stay back," one of them orders.
Marta and I retreat to the far corner of the room, pressing back against the concrete wall.
Minutes crawl past and the gunfire continues.
I'm crying now, finally letting my tears out because Sofia is sleeping and I don't have to be strong.
Marta pushes a tissue from her pocket into my hand and then, suddenly, the gunfire stops.
I hold my breath, straining to hear anything.
Footsteps.
Voices.
Some sign of what's happening above us.
But I hear nothing.
The guards don't move.
They stay frozen by the door with their weapons still raised.
"What does that mean?" I ask, but no one answers.
Marta crosses herself again, her lips moving in another silent prayer.
I want to pray too, but I don't know what to say.
I don't know what to ask for.
"Just bring him back. Bring Dante back to us," I whisper to anyone out there who might be listening, because if there is a god, Dante might just need his help.