Chapter Seven
Ella
The beam of light sweeps up and down the rocks in the cave entrance, then drifts sideways.
I stop breathing, afraid even that small sound might echo in the confined space and give me away.
Pressing my back harder against the stone, I will myself to disappear into the shadows.
I clap a hand over my mouth, swallowing down the wave of nausea rising in my throat.
After a few agonizing seconds, they turn off the flashlight.
Someone calls out, “Libero.”
Clear.
I release a silent breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, but I remain absolutely still.
Have I really gotten away with it?
“Dove si trova?”
I have no idea what it means, but the tone is unmistakable. Frustrated.
The voices drift farther away.
Still, I don’t move.
What if it’s a trick? What if someone is standing just outside the cave, waiting for me to crawl out?
I strain my ears, listening for footsteps or the scrape of boots on stone.
Nothing.
Only the steady crash of waves against the rocks.
A new worry creeps in.
What if this cave floods with the tide?
My gaze flicks toward the entrance.
How long have I been hiding in here?
Moving as quietly as possible, I creep toward the narrow opening and cautiously peek outside.
The sun hangs low in the sky, bathing the sea in warm golden light. The water still sits well below the cave entrance.
For now, at least, I’m safe.
Relief loosens some of the tension coiled inside my chest.
It won’t be long before darkness falls.
Then I can move again.
I return to my spot and open my makeshift rucksack. The pizza, though cold, smells heavenly.
I devour it quickly, saving the bread for later. When I open a bottle of water, I realize just how thirsty the ordeal has made me and take several long gulps.
Almost immediately, exhaustion crashes over me.
My eyelids grow heavy.
The adrenaline that carried me down that cliff is finally draining away, leaving my body weak and shaky.
I should be using this time to think. To plan.
What will I do when I reach a house? Will the people there help me, or call the men chasing me?
The possibilities swirl in my mind until my thoughts feel tangled and sluggish, like my brain has been dipped in fairy floss.
Too much. It’s all too much.
I need a few minutes of rest.
I wrap the tablecloth around my shoulders for warmth and lean back against the cool rock, closing my eyes.
Just until the sun sets.
Sleep pulls me under before I can fight it. The distant crash of waves against the rocks becomes the last thing I hear.
When I wake, the cave is wrapped in complete darkness.
A jolt of panic shoots through me.
How long was I asleep?
My body is cold and aching. Rocks really don’t make much of a bed.
I fumble along the ground until my fingers find the remaining food and water. Pulling them against my chest, I rise carefully and move toward the cave entrance.
At the narrow opening, I pause and listen.
Nothing.
Only the steady rhythm of the sea.
After a slow, steadying breath, I squeeze through the gap and step outside.
A soft breeze brushes my face, and I simply stand there, breathing it in.
It’s a clear night, and hundreds of stars scatter across the firmament. The Milky Way stretches overhead, and a quarter moon casts just enough light to see where I’m going.
Far in the distance, a few lights flicker.
God, they seem days away.
My brain knows they aren’t, but the sight still drains some of the fragile hope from my chest.
No point dwelling on it. The cover of night won’t last forever.
I push the serviette-wrapped bread into one of my dress pockets and the water bottle into the other. Then I fasten the belt around my waist and wrap the tablecloth around my shoulders. The night air is cool, and I’m grateful for the thin warmth my makeshift blanket provides.
Then I start walking toward the lights.
At first, the hope of finding help pushes me forward.
But progress in the dark is slow and punishing. I have no idea how long I’ve been walking. Every muscle aches, and all I can think about is sinking into a hot bath.
I try to ignore the pain and start humming Bob Marley’s Every Little Thing Is Gonna Be Alright.
Ma and Da were avid hikers when we lived in the Austrian Alps. Whenever I grew tired and declared I couldn’t take another step, the three of us would start singing.
It worked every time. Soon I’d forget my aching legs and keep going.
Now I sing the same lines again and again, letting the rhythm carry me forward.
For a moment, I can almost feel my parents beside me, urging me on.
Step by step, the lights draw closer. I should reach them within the next hour.
Not that I have any real way of measuring time, but an hour sounds manageable when every part of me wants to stop.
As I finally approach the houses, my shoulders sag with relief.
Until I notice where they are.
Perched on top of a cliff.
I slow, scanning the rock face.
There’s no obvious path up.
A groan escapes me.
Now what?
I’m exhausted after hours of picking my way over uneven ground and worrying about how I’m going to get myself out of this mess.
But I can’t give up now.
I keep pushing through the tiredness and pain, following the shoreline until the stones finally give way to sand and a small beach stretches out ahead of me.
Immediately, a prickle of unease settles in my gut. What is this about?
I stop and sit down in the shadows to observe for a while. My legs feel like lead anyway. I need a breather.
The beach appears deserted. But looks can be deceiving.
My stomach growls, and I pull the remaining bread from my dress pocket, tear off a piece, and eat it quickly. It’s soft and comforting, tasting far better than it has any right to.
All the while, my eyes stay fixed on the edges of the beach, searching for movement, lights, or anything suspicious.
But everything remains still. Nothing is out of the ordinary.
After a few mouthfuls of water, I rise and cross the sand toward the narrow path I spotted earlier. Hopefully it leads to civilization.
When I reach it, I hesitate.
A tight knot grips my chest, making it difficult to breathe. I take several slow breaths, forcing myself to steady.
The path disappears into a small forest. Tall trees crowd together, their branches weaving a dense canopy overhead. The moon tries to break through, but the darkness beneath the trees remains thick and impenetrable.
I swallow.
Adrenaline tightens every muscle in my body.
Anything could be hiding in there.
But I’ve come too far to turn back now.
Still…
It’s pitch black in there. I won’t even be able to see my hand in front of my face.
Maybe I should wait until dawn.
I wish I had a flashlight, though it probably wouldn’t help much with my fear.
Weighing my options, I decide to be brave.
Feel the fear and do it anyway, right?
I can do this.
My heart races as goosebumps ripple across my skin. I take a few tentative steps into the darkness. Slowly, my eyes adjust, and I can make out the next couple of paces ahead.
I exhale and keep going.
A sharp crack splits the silence.
I freeze.
My ears strain for another sound. My hands tremble, and I clasp them together to steady them.
The forest is utterly still.
That was just an animal.
I repeat it silently, again and again.
Just an animal. Just an animal.
Then a voice behind me says, “Buonasera.”
I scream, whirling around. My pulse roars in my ears.
This cannot be happening.
I make out the dark silhouette of a tall, broad man standing only a few steps away.
Neither of us moves.
What do I do?
If I stay, I’m finished.
Run.
I spin the other way.
And slam straight into a hard chest.
Fuck. Another man.
Before I can react, thick arms wrap around me and lift me off the ground. I kick and thrash wildly, screaming for help, but the forest swallows the sound.
A sharp sting bites into my arm.
Terror floods me.
Oh God. Did they just drug me?
No. Not again.
My breath comes in frantic gasps.
My limbs grow heavy.
Everything starts happening too fast. Dark spots creep across my vision as the world tilts and spins.
I’m about to black out.
Someone throws me over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes. My head lolls, my strength draining away.
The fight drains out of me.
And then the darkness takes me.