Chapter 22
EVA
The rhythm of the train should lull me to sleep, but instead it only hammers home the reality that I'm running again.
Always running.
Mirabella's head rests against my chest, finally surrendering to exhaustion after hours of questions I couldn't properly answer.
Why did we leave Daddy's house?
When can we see him again?
Where are we going?
Paranoia grows with each passing second.
Every face on this train could be an enemy. Every glance in my direction might mean I've been recognized.
Adriano's face haunts me when I close my eyes. The way he looked at me last night, so tender, so trusting. I'd finally convinced him I was worthy of his faith. And now I’ve shattered it. Again.
Almost as soon as I left, I’d been second-guessing my decision to leave.
My choices sit on a scale, tipping from one side to the other.
Stay and face Adriano’s wrath and Alessandro’s punishment or leave and face… who knows what?
The scale dips back and forth.
One minute, I’ve made the right choice and the next, I haven’t.
Ultimately, I couldn't stay. Not with Alessandro's threats hanging over me, not with Ivan's knowing smirk promising exposure of my secrets.
One thing is for sure. Whatever Adriano felt for me dies when he realizes I’ve run. And he’ll come searching for me, especially now that he knows about Mirabella. What will he do when he finds me?
I have to hope he doesn’t find me, which adds to my shame for keeping him and Mirabella apart.
But I’ve made my choice. And now I’m doing all I can to keep me and Mirabella safe.
We got off the D.C. bound bus in Philadelphia.
We took a cab to the train station, where I bought tickets to Miami, but I have no intention of making it to Florida.
I know Adriano has resources to track me. Hopefully, he’ll follow the crumbs I’ve left and not realize it when I get off the train in Atlanta.
The train rocks as we speed through the dark countryside.
By morning, we'll reach Atlanta, and I'll disappear again.
New names, new story, new life.
I close my eyes, trying not to cry. I never wanted this life for Mirabella. Or for myself.
"Are the bad men still chasing us?" Mirabella’s soft voice asks as she clutches her stuffed unicorn.
"No, baby. We're safe now." I hope it’s not a lie.
“I’m hungry.”
“Okay. I’ve got some snacks.” I quickly bought them at the train station.
I sit her on the seat beside me and pull a juice box and peanut butter crackers from my bag. I lower the table on the seat back in front of her and set them there.
She takes a sip and a bite but then stops.
“Are you okay?” I brush her hair from her face.
She shrugs. "I dreamed about Daddy. He was fighting the bad men. He kept them away."
My throat tightens. "Did he?"
She nods solemnly. "Daddy is strong. He said nobody could hurt us when he's there." Her little brow furrows. "Why didn't we stay with Daddy?"
The question guts me. How do I explain that the truth I'm hiding would make her father hate me more than death itself?
"It's complicated, sweetheart."
"But Daddy loves us. He read me stories and made the monster voices. He said we were his girls forever."
I fight back tears. "I know, baby."
"Can we go back to Daddy when the bad men are gone?"
Each innocent question is another wound. In her world, problems have solutions. Bad men go away. Families stay together. If only that were true.
She curls up again, resting her head in my lap. As much as it would kill me, I should have left her with Adriano. She’d been in her fairy room, warm and well-fed. Safe.
I close my eyes and see my father's face the night the Bratva came.
"Run, Eva!" he'd screamed as Maksim Vasiliev's men dragged him from our home.
I was nineteen and knew nothing about running from the mob. When Maksim cornered me weeks later, his offer was simple. Infiltrate the Dante family or my father would die. Not much of a choice.
My father had been a low level associate with the Dante family, so I wasn’t sure they’d even accept me. But they did.
I never meant to fall in love with Adriano. Never meant to create this beautiful, innocent life.
If I'd stayed with Adriano now, would Alessandro have discovered my past?
That I once fed information to Maksim Vasiliev?
That I was the reason the Bratva gained a foothold in Dante business all those years ago?
Don Lorenzo suspected me.
Now Ivan wants me back under his thumb or dead. He knows my connection to Adriano now, and I have no doubt he’ll try to use it, which puts Mirabella in even more danger.
Adriano won’t understand nor forgive my betrayal.
The man who executes traitors without mercy would see me as nothing more than another enemy to eliminate.
A part of me wonders if death by his hand might be easier than this endless running.
But Mirabella needs me.
So we run. We hide. We survive.
The Atlanta skyline overwhelms me as we step off the train. It’s hotter, more humid here. Still, relief floods through me that we’ve made it the next leg.
Of course, I can’t fully relax. Never again. I’ll be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my days.
As we move through the station, I scan faces reflexively, searching for the slightest hint of recognition, for anyone who might be tracking us. The paranoia never leaves. It becomes a part of me, like breathing.
I find a clean, yet inexpensive, efficiency hotel room.
It has a queen-size bed and a rollaway, along with a kitchenette, dining table, and small bathroom.
"Is this where we live now, Mommy?"
"For a little while.”
As Mirabella explores our tiny new home,
I sit at the scratched kitchen table, mapping out our next steps.
New identities.
A job that pays cash and allows me to keep Mirabella close by.
Housekeeping is usually the best option.
I need to dye my hair again, change our appearance enough to throw off facial recognition.
Maybe glasses for me.
I flinch and hold my breath as a car slows outside.
But then it leaves, and I can breathe again.
Night falls, and I give Mirabella a bath in the tiny tub and put her back in her pajamas.
“I want my own bed,” she says as I try to put her in bed. “Like at Daddy’s.”
I glance at the couch that rolls out.
I don’t like not having her close by, but my guilt makes it difficult to resist her.
I pull out the rollaway and tuck her in.
I didn’t bring a book, so I tell her a story about a fairy princess until she falls asleep.
I triple-check the locks on our door. Test the windows. Pull the blinds tight.
Is this far enough?
Atlanta is an overnight drive, but only hours by plane.
The Dante reach is long.
The Bratva’s is longer.
I startle when a car door slams and voices pass by.
Terrible scenarios run through my mind.
Will they torture or simply kill me?
Will the Bratva sell Mirabella?
Will Adriano bad-mouth me to her?
The walls of our tiny apartment press in, making it hard to breathe. I should have gone further.
Mexico. Canada. Maybe even Europe.
Somewhere Adriano's influence can't reach.
When Mirabella whimpers in her sleep, I nearly scream.
This is what my life has become again.
Jumping at shadows, seeing threats in mundane noises, dragging my child through an existence defined by fear.
My eyelids grow heavy despite my vigilance. Minimal sleep has taken its toll. But when sleep finally claims me, it offers no peace.
I'm back in our family home, my father's panicked gaze finding mine across the dining room table as the door splinters open.
"Run, Eva!" he shouts, but my feet won't move. Maksim steps through the doorway, his smile cruel.
Then suddenly, it's not my father but Don Lorenzo. I’m in his study, his expression filled with suspicion and accusation.
"I know what you are," he hisses. But when I look again, it's Alessandro staring back at me, reaching for his gun. "I told you I'd destroy you when I found out the truth."
I turn to run, and there’s Adriano, fire in his eyes. “You lied to me. I’ve killed for less.”
Next I’m running through endless corridors that morph into alleyways. Footsteps gain ground.
When I turn, Ivan's face leers at me. "Did you think you could escape your debt to us?"
I try to scream, but a hand covers my mouth.
I jolt awake and discover it’s not a dream. I can’t scream because a firm hand is clamped over my mouth. My body freezes in terror, eyes flying open to darkness.
"Don't move," a voice whispers, low and menacing.
My heart hammers. Mirabella, where is Mirabella? My eyes dart frantically to the side, searching for her.
The weight of someone looming over me pins me to the bed. My right hand inches toward the pillow where I’ve stashed my knife.
"I wouldn't," the voice warns, catching my wrist in a grip that threatens to snap bone.
Rage cuts through my fear. I twist violently.
"Stop fighting," the voice hisses. I feel the heat of him as he leans over me, his breath hot on my ear. "Did you really think I wouldn't find you? Did you think I'd let you take my daughter again?"