Chapter 34 NORA
NORA
The metal gates slam shut behind us with a loud clang that rings down my back.
The warm air smells like cut grass and lemons, but armed men stand every few steps with guns drawn, keeping my heart in my throat.
Next to me, Luca walks in cold silence, while Adrian, Enzo, and Matteo flank us like walls of stone.
Luca presses his warm, heavy hand against my lower back to steady me as we climb the stone steps. "I've got you, Nora."
My knees wobble with every step. My hands feel like ice, the memory of Sara's snapped neck still haunts my mind, and I can barely look at the guards watching us pass.
Matteo does not make any jokes for once, keeping his eyes on my shaking legs with quiet worry as we reach the porch.
We step through the huge front doors into the main hall. It feels like a stone castle, but the smell of garlic, fresh bread, and warm tomato sauce fills the air, catching me completely off guard.
The second we step into the dining room, Sofia gasps. She runs forward before anyone can stop her, throwing both arms around my neck and crying against my shoulder.
Sofia weeps, squeezing me tight against her chest. "You came back. You killed her for me. Sara will never hurt me again. Thank you, Nora."
The room spins. The memory of Sara's blank eyes hits me hard, and a raw cry cuts out of my throat as my legs give out beneath me.
Luca catches me before I hit the floor, pulling me up against his chest while Sofia grips my fingers. Nonna rushes over, draping a warm wool blanket over my shaking shoulders.
Enzo pulls back a chair so Luca can help me sit down, his rough face showing real care. "Take a breath, Nora."
Nonna whispers, wrinkled, warm palm over my knuckles until my chest stops hitching. "You did what you had to do to stay alive, Cara."
With their arms around me and their soft words in the air, the cold panic begins to fade, letting warmth back into my stiff fingers.
Nonna nudges a glass of water into my hands while her fingers brush my hair back. "Drink this first. Small sips, Cara. You need color in your skin."
Sofia chimes in, setting down a woven basket and pulling up a wooden stool beside my knees. "I brought bread. Nonna baked it this morning. It is still warm."
Enzo leans against the edge of the dining table and crosses his heavy arms. "You look like a ghost who got into a fight. Not bad for a girl who talks like a lawyer."
Matteo cuts in, dropping into the chair on my left and kicking his long legs out. "Hey, give her a break. She survived Sara Bellini and half an army. Most people would still be screaming in a ditch."
"She can still scream," Luca murmurs, sitting directly beside me. He pulls the steaming bowl of pasta closer and picks up the silver fork, his knuckles brushing against my sleeve.
I try to reach for the fork, but my fingers shake so badly they tremble against the wood. "I can feed myself, Luca."
He twirls a small bite onto the tines with calm precision. He lifts it to my lips, holding my gaze until I give in and open my mouth. "Not right now, you can't. Eat. You need your strength."
The taste of warm garlic, crushed tomatoes, and basil fills my mouth, hitting my empty stomach like a lifeline. I swallow, leaning slightly into his side as he offers another bite without saying a word.
Once the plates are cleared, the easy mood drops away fast. Luca sets his glass on the dark wood table with a hard tap. He leans forward on his elbows, turning from quiet protector to ruthless boss in an instant, his dark eyes moving across each person in the room.
Luca keeps his voice low and cold, staring down the table. "Bellini sent a message an hour ago. He claims the traitor in this house. Selling him guard shifts and our safe routes."
Sofia puts a hand over her chest. "That is a lie. No one in this family would help Vincenzo Bellini. Not after he killed our parents."
Enzo barks, hand banging down on the table until the cups rattle. "Then we rip this entire place apart. Every single room, until we find the traitor."
Adrian switches on a heavy black flashlight and points at Enzo and Matteo. "We split into pairs. You two take the east hall and staff quarters. Luca and I take the main floor. The girl sticks with us."
We search hallway after hallway, checking under beds, looking inside air vents, tearing through book cases, and digging through secret spots from the cellar to the top floor. Room after room comes up empty, and the quiet in the house gets worse by the minute.
At the end of the dark west hallway, Matteo stops in front of a locked wood door. Dust covers the handle. Matteo scratches his head with a frown. "Wait, we do not need to look in here, right? Uncle Vittorio has been sick in care homes for years. He can barely stand up."
"Sick people hide things well," Adrian grunts, setting his hand on the frame before kicking the door open with his boot.
Inside, the room is dark and smells like old soap and dust. Adrian shines his flashlight along the big wood closet by the wall. He runs his hand inside the seam, finds a small latch, and pulls back a hidden panel in the wood.
Adrian lets out a low breath when his hand finds cold metal. He pulls out a black radio, a set of fake IDs, and small notebooks filled with blue pen. He sets them on the dresser under the light.
Enzo steps back, all the color draining from his cheeks. He tugs at his hair in disbelief. "No, this is wrong. Uncle Vittorio raised us after our parents died. He can barely hold a pen without his hands shaking!"
Matteo throws his hands up. "He is right, someone set him up. Or someone picked an empty room to stash their junk. Bellini is playing tricks on us."
A heavy quiet fills the bedroom. The doubt sits thick between the brothers like a knife. Luca does not move, his jaw tight and hard, his eyes fixed on his uncle's handwriting.
A quiet sound by the door makes me turn. Nonna stands in the doorway, framed by the hall light. She does not look surprised like the boys. She just looks at the radio and the books with deep, tired pain in her eyes.
Luca turns toward her, stepping forward as his voice falls to a low whisper. "Nonna. You knew. Uncle Vittorio stayed locked in this room for years. He could never look at us, even when we went to visit him. What are you hiding?"
Nonna closes her eyes tight, her fingers white around her prayer beads. When she opens them, tears run down her face. Nonna whispers, chin trembling. "Because thirty years ago, Vittorio lost his lover. That is all I will tell you. The rest of the truth... you must hear it from his own mouth."
Luca stares at her, his face turning to stone. He turns on his heel without another word. "Adrian, get the car. Enzo, Matteo, Nora. We are going to the care home right now."
No one argues. Leaving Nonna in the quiet hallway with Sofia, we head straight out into the night.
Within half an hour, the car pulls up outside the private sanitarium on the outskirts of town.
The clinical white corridors smell of antiseptic and sickness, completely empty as we make our way toward the room at the far end.
Luca pushes the heavy wooden door open without knocking.
An aged man sits propped up in a medical bed by the window, breathing slowly. Tubes run from his thin arm, but his sunken eyes brighten with cold realization as we step inside.
"You guys came finally," he murmurs, a hollow rasp in his voice.
The words hit the room like a physical blow. Matteo stumbles back a half step, Enzo's mouth falls open in complete disbelief, and Luca's jaw clenches until the muscles tick beneath his skin. There is no denial in his eyes. He really did it.
"Why?" Luca demands, his voice low and vibrating with raw fury. "Why would you betray us, uncle? You raised us!"
Vittorio looks at Luca, his gaze cloudy with decades of grief and exhaustion. A ghost of a broken smile touches his pale lips.
Vittorio stares straight into his nephew's eyes. "Have you ever loved someone hard, Luca? Hard enough to destroy your own family for them?"