Chapter 15 Lupo
I leave before dawn.
Isabella doesn't know I'm going this early. I told her I'd leave after breakfast, but I couldn't sleep anyway. Couldn't stop thinking about the twelve euros in that jar. About Elena asking for an apple and Isabella saying they didn't have any.
About the fact that I'm the reason they're going hungry.
The walk to the next town is longer than I expected. Ten kilometers, Isabella said, but it feels like more. My ribs still ache with each step, and the gash on my temple throbs in rhythm with my heartbeat. But I push through it.
I've endured worse. I know that, even if I can't remember specifics.
The sun is just breaking over the hills when I reach the outskirts of the town. It's bigger than the village where Isabella shops, more buildings, more people, more anonymity. That's what I'm counting on.
The construction site is easy to find. A new building going up on the edge of town, scaffolding already in place, the skeleton of something that will eventually be apartments or offices. I can hear voices, the sound of tools, the beep of machinery backing up.
I stand at the edge of the site for a moment, watching. Men in hard hats and work boots moving with purpose. The smell of fresh concrete and sawdust. Something about it feels familiar. Right.
Like I've stood in places like this before.
"Hey!" Someone shouts. "You looking for work or just sightseeing?"
I turn. A man in his fifties, weathered face, clipboard in hand. The foreman, probably.
"Work," I say. "If you need someone."
He looks me up and down, assessing. I can see him taking in my build, the way I stand, the scars visible on my hands and forearms.
"You done construction before?"
"Yes." The answer comes automatically. Is it true? I think so. My hands seem to think so.
"Papers?"
This is where it gets tricky. "Lost them. I can work for cash. Day rate."
His eyes narrow. "You in trouble with the law?"
"No. Just... bad luck."
He studies me for another long moment, then shrugs. "We're short-handed. Lost two guys yesterday, went to a better-paying job in Florence." He gestures toward the site. "You can use a hammer? Lift heavy things? Follow directions?"
"Yes."
"Fifty euros for the day. Cash. You work hard, you can come back tomorrow. You slack off, you're done. Clear?"
Fifty euros. Nearly five times what Isabella has left. For one day of work.
"Clear."
"Name?"
I hesitate for just a fraction of a second. "Lupo."
"Last name?"
"Does it matter if I'm working for cash?"
He smirks. "Fair point. I'm Sal. Don't make me regret this." He jerks his head toward the site. "Get a hard hat from the shed and report to Aldo, he's the guy yelling at everyone near the south wall. He'll tell you what to do."
I get the hard hat and find Aldo. He's exactly where Sal said he'd be, yelling at a younger guy who's apparently mixed up an order.
When he sees me, he looks annoyed. "Who are you?"
"New hire. Sal said to report to you."
He sighs. "Fine. You know how to mix concrete?"
"Show me once and I'll do it."
He does. It's simple, physical work, measuring, mixing, hauling. My body knows what to do even if my mind doesn't remember learning it. Within an hour, I've fallen into the rhythm of the site.
And it feels good.
Not the aching in my muscles or the sweat dripping down my back. But the simplicity of it. The straightforward nature of the work. Do this. Carry that. Mix this. Build.
No politics. No violence. No death.
Just honest labor.
Is this what I was before? Before whatever I became? Did I work sites like this, coming home exhausted but satisfied, dirt under my fingernails and money in my pocket?
By midday, I've proven myself enough that Aldo stops watching me so closely. I'm hauling lumber when I overhear two men talking near the water cooler.
"—heard it on the radio this morning," one of them says. "Big shake-up in Naples. Some kind of power struggle."
Naples.
I freeze, lumber still on my shoulder. Naples means something to me.
"When isn't there a power struggle in Naples?" the other man laughs. "Place is run by criminals."
"Yeah, but this is different. One of the big bosses disappeared a few weeks ago. Just vanished. Now everyone's fighting over his territory."
A few weeks ago.
My hands tighten on the lumber.
"Probably dead in a ditch somewhere," the first man says. "That's how it goes with those types."
"Or in hiding. Maybe he made too many enemies."
"Either way, good riddance. One less criminal in the world."
They walk away, and I'm left standing there, my heart pounding.
Naples. A boss disappearing a few weeks ago. Power struggle.
Is that me? Am I the missing boss?
The thought should terrify me. Should make me want to run in the opposite direction, never look back.
But instead, I feel something else.
Recognition.
I set down the lumber carefully and close my eyes, trying to chase the feeling. Trying to remember.
Naples. I know Naples. I can almost see it, narrow streets, the smell of the sea, the chaos of the port. I can almost hear it, Neapolitan dialect, car horns, the sound of the city.
I know it.
But I can't quite grasp it. It's like trying to hold smoke.
"Hey! Lupo!" Aldo is yelling. "You taking a nap or working?"
"Working." I shake it off and get back to it.
But for the rest of the day, the word echoes in my head.
Naples. Naples. Naples.
By the time the sun starts to set, I'm exhausted. Every muscle aches. My hands are blistered despite the calluses. But I've done it. I've worked a full day.
Sal finds me as everyone's packing up. He hands me fifty euros in cash, worn bills that I clutch like treasure.
"You did good," he says. "Better than most new guys. You want to come back tomorrow?"
"Yes, of course. I need the work. Whatever you can give me."
"Same time. Same rate." He pauses. "You really lose your papers? Or you running from something?"
"Does it matter?"
He shrugs. "Not to me. Just don't bring trouble to my site."
"I won't."
I pocket the money and start the long walk back. My legs are heavy, and every step feels like it takes all my energy. But I don't care.
I have fifty euros. Enough to help Isabella. Enough to buy food, pay a bill, give her some breathing room.
The sun is setting by the time I see the farm in the distance. The house looks golden in the fading light, smoke rising from the chimney. Isabella must be making dinner.
Home.
That's what it looks like. What it feels like.
But the word Naples keeps echoing.
What if that's my home? What if I have a life there, responsibilities, people depending on me?
What if Isabella and Elena are just a beautiful detour from whoever I really am?
I'm almost to the barn when I see her. She's standing in the yard, watching the road, her arms wrapped around herself. When she sees me, relief floods her face and she starts running.
"Lupo!" She reaches me, and her hands are on my face, checking for injuries. "Are you okay? You've been gone all day. I was so worried."
"I'm fine." I catch her hands, holding them. "I got work. A construction site. They need me back tomorrow."
"Did anyone recognize you?"
"No one. No one asked questions." I pull out the fifty euros and press them into her hand. "It's not much, but, it’s a start."
She stares at the money like I've handed her gold. "Lupo, this is," Her voice breaks. "This is so much."
"It's one day's work. I'll bring more tomorrow. And the day after. As much as they'll let me work. I’m a hard worker."
She throws her arms around me, and I hold her tight despite my exhausted, aching body. She smells like cooking and home.
"Thank you," she whispers against my chest. "Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me."
"Yes, I do." She pulls back, looking up at me. "You didn't have to do this."
I touch her face. "You and Elena, you're everything. I'll do whatever it takes."
She kisses me then, and it's different from the other times. Less desperate, less questioning. This feels like a promise. Like a choice we're both making with clear eyes.
When she pulls away, there are tears on her cheeks.
"Come inside," she says. "I made dinner. You must be starving."
I am. But more than food, I want this, her hand in mine, walking toward that warm house, Elena's excited voice when she sees me, the simple domesticity of sitting at their table.
This is what I want.
Not Naples. Not whatever life I had before. Not power or territory or violence.
This.
But as we walk inside and Elena launches herself at me, chattering about her day, I can't shake the feeling that I don't get to choose.
That Naples, and whoever I was there, is coming for me.
And when it does, I'm going to have to decide who I truly am. The monster I was, or the man I want to be.
The problem is, I don't know if I’ll be given the choice or if it will be made for me.
After dinner, after Elena is in bed, Isabella and I sit at the kitchen table. The fifty euros are on the table between us, already divided in her mind, I'm sure, into which bills to pay first.
"I heard something today," I say carefully. "At the construction site."
She looks up, alert. "What?"
"Two men talking. About Naples. About a boss who disappeared a few weeks ago. About a power struggle."
Her face goes pale. "Is it you?"
"I don't know. Maybe. The timing is right. And when they said Naples," I trail off, trying to find the words. "Something in me recognized it. Like I know that city. Like I've been there many times."
"What else did they say?"
"Nothing specific. Just that whoever disappeared is probably dead or in hiding. That people are fighting over his territory."
She's quiet for a long moment. "If you're that person, if you're this missing boss, then people are looking for you. Dangerous people. They could find you. What do we do?"
I reach across the table and take her hand. "I keep working. I keep making money. And I keep protecting you. Whatever comes, whoever I was, I'll deal with it."
"You can't fight an entire organization."
"Maybe not. But I can fight anyone who tries to hurt you or Elena. And I will."
She squeezes my hand, but I can see the fear in her eyes. She's thinking the same thing I am.
This can't last. This fragile peace, this temporary happiness, it's all on borrowed time.
Eventually, my past is going to catch up with me. And when it does, everything is going to fall apart.
But for tonight, I let myself have this.
Her hand in mine. Her trust. Her hope.
Tomorrow, I'll go back to the construction site. I'll work until my body breaks for them. I'll bring home every euro I can.
And I'll prepare for the moment when everything I'm trying to build comes crashing down.
Because it's coming. I can feel it.
The question is whether I'll be strong enough to protect them when it does.
Whether the man I want to be can survive the monster I'm becoming again.