Chapter 25
Unraveling
I sit on the sofa staring through the balcony doors as Leo speaks on the phone with Jameson.
Owen’s on his laptop, Animal’s been in and out of the room the last thirty minutes, and Rudy is with hotel staff.
I’ve debated calling Leanne, but don’t really have the mental capacity to discuss what happened.
Leo brought up a bit of his conversation with Renato in the car ride.
It appears we had wonderful conversations. Not.
Should I be surprised by Renato’s warning that Leo has to ditch me? No. Was it on my bingo card? Also no.
A huff of air leaves me as I bring my legs up. Pretty sure the honeymoon part is over. Likely we’ll have to reveal we’re in Rome soon.
Doors open and close.
There’s no changing his family’s minds at this point, especially when all of them are saying to leave me. Deep down I don’t care what they think of me, but it does hurt.
I sigh, listening to the sounds of the city. In my head, I go through sessions I’ve had with Dr. Maxwell and what he’d tell me. Or what Leanne, Trix, or Nan would say. Common denominator? Don’t listen to them. Don’t let their insecurities and toxicity tear you down.
Besides, it’s not like I’m trying to please his parents. His father would’ve likely hated me, too.
My finger runs over my wedding band, calming me as I feel it on my hand again. Leo hangs up the phone, entering and closes the balcony doors with a soft click.
“I need to discuss a few things with Aurelio,” he says. “Owen will be with me. Rudolph should be back soon.”
He comes over to the sofa, leaning over me to kiss my forehead. “Stay in the suite.”
He adjusts his cuffs on the new dress shirt he wears, leaving with Owen close behind. I slump back into the sofa, flicking my gaze at the now closed balcony doors. Worry trickles down my neck, I get up to head into the kitchenette to make some coffee. I’ve definitely not had enough today.
I’m getting the Moka pot ready when there’s a knock at the door. Before walking over, I check for the stashed guns near the entrance, and the knife taped to the wall next to the entrance. I open the door slowly and let out a sigh of relief when I see it’s one of the bellboys.
“Buon pomeriggio,” I greet.
“Buonosera, signora.” He then speaks quickly in Italian, pointing to a package and a manila envelope on a cart. Ah, more mail from Jameson.
I nod and get him to place the package on the foyer table as he hands me the envelope. He leaves smiling.
“Grazie,” I say, closing the door. “One day I’ll keep up. You’d think knowing some Latin would help.”
I continue mumbling, glancing over the mid-sized box. I start to pick it up but realize it’s heavier than it looks. Letting go, I check the postage is from New York, except it’s to me. I pinch my brows, and then glance at the envelope. It’s addressed to me as well.
“Did Isaac send me something?” I head over to the kitchen, grabbing a knife to open the envelope as I lean against the counter. Tearing it open, I pause when I notice something odd.
The postage isn’t stamped over. The return address is one I don’t recognize, and it’s missing a postal code.
My heart starts to pound as I stare at the sharpie that writes out my name and the hotel.
No room number. No suite name. Upon first look, it’s normal, but this shouldn’t have made it through customs.
Meaning it never went through the mail.
I snap my gaze to the front door, trying to recall if I’ve seen the bellboy before. Yes, I have multiple times. He’s nice. And it does look like real mail.
Hands now trembling, I fumble as I try to gently open the envelope, waiting for anything to jump out or powder to release. Nothing. Only a piece of paper, far too small for such a large envelope. Warning screams in my head as I pull it out, reading the words written in bold letters.
I was informed you enjoy movies.
Which ones do you think inspired your gift?
My face scrunches. There’s nothing else on the paper or in the envelope. Gift? What?
Time slows as I look up at the package on the table.
Stomach twisting as warning yanks at the back of my neck, I put the paper down and go to the package on the table.
The postage is fake, too. No proof it went through customs. Except, there’s a return address this time I recognize and I want to be sick as my hands violently shake.
Nan’s Bookstore.
The letter’s taunting screams in my head as I stare at the box. Like distant shouting, I suddenly hear Brad Pitt’s damning words from that harrowing scene.
“What’s in the box!?”
“No.” Tears gather in my eyes. “No.”
I race back to the kitchen, stumbling as I grab for the knife.
Gripping the utensil, I come back to tear open the package, but freeze when I see a Styrofoam box. My chest hurts, squeezing in fearful pain. The lid is taped, and I cut through those next. It’s cold like there’s ice packs inside.
“What’s in the box?!”
My heartbeat thunders as I try not to sob or puke right there as my eyes become blurry. Hands shaking, I grip the lid’s edge.
“Please…please…” I beg to whoever will listen.
Shutting my eyes, I finally rip it open and the lid clatters to the floor.
I can smell melted ice, but there’s something else that makes my stomach churn. Something wrong and pungent. A smell I know—death.
Eyes screwed shut, I take a few seconds and breathe before finally opening my eyes to look at my “gift” within.
Mixture of emotions flood me. Horror. Anger. Relief.
Nestled like a fucking delicate egg in melted ice sits a severed head.
Roger’s head.
I stare in horror as my brain scrambles. I stare at the wrinkles. Disheveled hair. I can tell he hadn’t shaved for days before the end. Eyelids drooping, his eyes are open and forever clouded in death. His mouth is partially open, and there’s something shoved inside his mouth.
My entire body starts shaking as I go to reach for it, but the bile coming up wins.
Snatching my hand back, I race to the kitchen and barely make it to the sink before puking up my stomach contents.
I clutch the counter, hurling as I blindly turn on the water.
My head pounds and my body aches, while my throat and lungs burn.
Agonized groans come from me as I grip the counter for dear life, tears streaming down my face.
Sweat forms at my temple as my body hurts from the onslaught. It feels like forever before the dry heaving stops, and I can wipe my mouth. I turn off the water, leaning against the counter as I stare at the floor. The door opens, and I wearily look up as Rudy enters.
“Barchen, are you—” His voice halts as he comes to the table and looks down. Shock flashes over his features as he comes over to me. “Scheisse. Are you—”
“I’m okay, just wasn’t prepared to see a severed head today,” I mutter as he looks me over briefly. “I’m just shaken up. I thought it was…it was Nan or Leanne…oh, god I felt relief when I saw it—”
I start sobbing abruptly. Rudy pulls me against him, encaging me with his body like a shield.
He holds me as I cry through the mixture of emotions, ranging from fear, horror, and relief.
I’ve experienced some fucked-up things, but a head sent to me hits the top of the list. David Mills was right to scream.
“You can be glad it wasn’t them,” Rudy whispers, stroking my back like Leo would do. “Fucker was a bastard who hurt you. You’re not a monster.”
My breathing hitches as I nod a little.
It’s awhile before he lets go, then walks me over to the sofa to sit with a pillow clutched to my chest. He starts making some calls, and although it feels like forever, I know it’s barely been fifteen minutes when the other three arrive.
Curse words are thrown and other mutterings as I hear them shuffle things and likely looking at the envelope, too.
Something itches at the back of my mind, warning moving along my neck. It tugs, but I feel too numb to truly listen.
Suddenly, Leo is in my field of vision as he crouches before me. He cups my cheek to lift my face. Hazel eyes meet mine filled with concern.
“I puked again,” I murmur.
“I’ll have tea sent up, and something to eat, too.”
“Maybe get rid of the head first.”
He strokes my cheek, and then rubs his other hand upon my leg.
“It’s Gabriel,” I whisper, and he frowns. “Charlotte knew about the movies. She must’ve told him.”
He goes to say something, but Owen speaks up from behind, “Boss, there’s something in his mouth.”
Oh, right forgot about that.
“What is it?” Leo stands up as I look over my shoulder at the three investigating the head.
“We’ll see soon,” Animal comments, giving Owen some rubber gloves. Once on, he reaches into the box. I exhale shakily as his hand comes back out with a small piece of paper.
“A fucking note?” Rudy mutters with a scowl.
“Whole things fucked up,” Animal adds. “It’s like a damn, well…”
“Movie,” I finish. Animal winces.
Owen walks over with the paper as the other two follow, opening it when he gets closer to Leo and I.
“What does it say?” Leo asks.
“Nothing,” Owen replies.
“A blank piece of paper in the mouth?” Animal questions. “I swear if it’s invisible ink…”
“Not blank, it’s just a picture,” Owen says.
He turns it around, showing a badly printed picture of a monarch butterfly.
The roaring in my head is long gone, replaced by what seems like white noise from a television. No more screaming. My chest constricts as new horror settles in. Long forgotten fears slithering through my veins as I stare past to the manilla envelope.
“They’re mimicking Silence of the Lambs?” Animal asks, peering at the picture.
“That was a moth, not a butterfly,” Owen says.
“What the fuck does it mean?” Rudy asks.
“He knows,” I whisper, unable to tear my gaze away from the package. “He knows.”
“Autumn?” Leo grabs my shoulder. “What are you talking about?”
It feels like I’m in another dimension, stuck in one of my nightmares and maybe I’ll wake up.
The villa never happened. Fiorella practically calling me a whore.
Renato’s disdainful looks. Roger’s head.
Parts of me want to snap; scream to wake up.
I’ll wake up at St. Peters with Leo, right? This isn’t real, a nightmare—
Leo gently grabs my face and it’s then I know this is reality.
“Dear Watson, look at me.” I focus on him, but fear crosses his face as he strokes my hair tenderly. “What are you talking about?”
“The mail. Movie references. The butterfly. He knows. He used Charlotte and Roger. Gabriel knows.”
“Someone else—”
“Monarch was Gabriel’s code name.” My voice feels distant. “When I couldn’t say his name in reports, the ones I sent to Roger in…in manila envelopes in mailboxes. He was ‘monarch.’ Roger talked before he killed him. He knows.”
I can’t even feel myself shaking as Leo takes me into his arms.
It seems my past truly has caught up with me.
Not only does Gabriel know we’re in Rome, but he knows I’m alive. And I’m the one who took him down.