24. Laney
LANEY
Nate was standing outside the building when I came down the steps.
I stopped so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet. My pulse sped up. He looked terrible — dark circles under his eyes, his shirt wrinkled like he'd slept in it, his hair uncombed. He had a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and his phone in his hand.
"Laney," he said. Relief flooded his face. "Thank God. I tried calling, but?—"
"You shouldn't be here." The words came out harsher than I meant. I glanced behind me at the building, at the street, anywhere but at him. A tremor moved through my hands. "Nate, you need to leave. Now."
He stepped toward me. "I'm not leaving without you. Whatever's going on, we'll figure it out together. Just like always."
Just like always. God, if only that were true. If only I could turn back the clock to when the worst problem we had was a pottery shard we couldn't date or a grant application that got rejected. When we were just two archaeologists arguing over stratigraphy and nothing in the world could touch us.
"You don't understand," I said. My throat felt tight. "You can't be here. It's not safe."
"I don't care." His jaw set in that stubborn way I recognized from a hundred dig sites. "You sent Sofia away. You're in trouble. I'm not leaving you alone."
I opened my mouth to argue, but I never got the chance.
Two men came out of nowhere. They were on us before I could shout, before Nate could even turn around. One grabbed my arm hard enough to bruise, yanking me back against his chest. The other seized Nate, gripping both his arms and forcing him back against the wall of the building.
"No!" I twisted in the man's grip, but he was twice my size and I couldn't break free. My bag hit the pavement. "Let him go! He has nothing to do with this!"
The man holding Nate said something in rapid Italian I couldn't follow. Nate was trying to get loose, but the hands pinning him didn't budge.
"Stop it," I said. My voice cracked. "He's not part of this. Let him go and I'll come with you."
The man holding me laughed. It was a cold sound, like I'd said something funny without meaning to. He said something to his partner, and they both hauled us toward a black car idling at the curb. Nate tried to plant his feet, but the man shoved him into the back seat. I was pushed in after him.
The door slammed shut. The locks engaged with a sound like a gunshot.
Nate was beside me, his breathing hard. I reached for him without thinking, my hand on his shoulder.
"I'm fine." He straightened up. His eyes met mine. "What the hell is happening?"
I couldn't answer. The car was already moving, weaving through Rome's narrow streets too fast. The men up front weren't talking.
I recognized the one in the passenger seat — I'd seen him at the palazzo once, years ago, standing behind Enzo at some family dinner I'd tried to forget. My stomach dropped.
Enzo's men. Of course they were Enzo's men. Who else would they be?
Nate tried the door handle. It didn't move. He pulled out his phone, but the driver barked something and Nate froze. The man in the passenger seat turned around and held out his hand. Nate looked at me.
"Just give it to him," I said quietly.
He handed it over. The man took it, popped out the SIM card, and tossed the phone onto the floor. Then he did the same with mine after yanking it out of my coat pocket. The pieces scattered under the seats like they'd never mattered at all.
The drive felt like it lasted forever and no time at all.
We ended up in a part of the city I didn't recognize, pulled into an alley behind a building that might have been a warehouse or an old office.
The men dragged us out of the car and through a back entrance.
The hallway inside was dim, lit by a single bulb that flickered like it might go out any second.
They shoved us into a room at the end of the hall. It was small and windowless, with concrete walls and a metal door that clanged shut behind us. There was a table, two chairs, and nothing else. The air smelled like mildew and something chemical I couldn't place.
Nate grabbed my hand. His palm was warm and damp with sweat. "Laney, who are these people? What do they want?"
I couldn't look at him. "They're family."
"What?"
"Massimo's family." My voice sounded hollow even to my own ears. "His brother's men."
He stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "His brother sent men to kidnap us off the street in broad daylight? Are you — Laney, we need to get out of here. We need to?—"
The door opened.
Enzo walked in like he owned the place. I supposed he did.
He was dressed in a suit that probably cost more than Nate's entire wardrobe, his hair slicked back, his expression carved from stone.
He looked at me first, then at Nate, then back at me.
His mouth curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"Laney," he said. His voice was soft. It made my skin crawl. "Thank you for being so predictable."
I stepped in front of Nate before I could think about it. "Whatever you think you know, you're wrong."
"Am I?" He tilted his head, studying me like I was a bug pinned to a board.
"I don't think so. In fact, I think I know exactly what's been happening.
You've been unfaithful to my brother. You've been sneaking around with this American — what's his name?
Nate? — behind Massimo's back for God knows how long. "
"That's insane." My hands curled into fists. "Nate is my friend. He's a colleague. That's all."
Enzo laughed. It was a sharp sound, bitter as burnt coffee. "A colleague. Right. Is that what you call him when you're in bed together?"
"We're not—" I bit the words off. My face was burning. Nate's hand landed on my shoulder, but I shook it off. "God, Enzo, you can't actually believe this."
"Oh, but I do." He stepped closer. I could smell his cologne, something expensive and cloying. "I believe it because I have proof. You're carrying his child, Laney. Don't bother denying it."
The world tilted. I heard Nate make a sound behind me, something between a gasp and a protest, but it sounded like it was coming from very far away. My chest felt too tight, like someone had wrapped a band around my ribs and was pulling it tighter and tighter.
"What are you talking about?" I managed to get the words out, but they sounded strangled.
Enzo smiled. It was a horrible smile, full of satisfaction and something darker.
"My man saw you. At a doctor's office here in Rome.
You didn't notice him, of course. You were too busy filling out paperwork, answering questions about your condition.
He followed you afterward, watched your little friend here come to your door, watched you laugh and smile like you didn't have a care in the world. "
Behind me, Nate said, "Laney?" His voice cracked on my name.
I didn't turn around. I couldn't. If I looked at him, if I saw the confusion and hurt on his face, I'd fall apart completely.
"The stranger who asked after him at his site?
" Enzo kept talking, relentless as a freight train.
"That was my man too. Checking. Making sure.
And you know what? Everything lined up perfectly.
The timeline, the secrecy, the way you sent Sofia away the moment things started to unravel — it all makes sense now. "
"You're wrong," I said. The words felt useless, like throwing pebbles at a tank. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" He crossed his arms. "You've disgraced my brother. You've disgraced this family. And for what? Some nobody archaeologist who'll never be able to give you the life Massimo gave you? It's pathetic."
Nate moved. I felt him step forward, felt the anger radiating off him like heat off asphalt in summer. "You son of a?—"
"Nate, don't." I grabbed his arm, holding him back. My fingers dug into his sleeve hard enough that I probably left marks. "Don't say anything. Don't do anything."
He looked down at me. His eyes were wild, desperate. "Laney, what is he talking about? You're pregnant?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
Enzo watched us with the expression of a man watching a play he'd already seen the ending to.
"This is a matter of honour," he said. His voice was calm, almost gentle.
Like he was explaining something to a child.
"You understand that, don't you? The family's honour has been attacked.
It has to be answered. There's no other way. "
My blood went cold. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that I'm going to kill you both." He said it so simply, like he was telling me the weather forecast. "It's the only way to restore what you've destroyed. An eye for an eye. A life for a life — or in this case, two lives for the family's good name."
"You can't be serious." Nate's voice was hoarse. "You can't just — this is murder. You're talking about murder."
"I'm talking about justice." Enzo pulled something from his jacket. A gun. It was small and black and it looked like a toy in his hand, but I knew it wasn't. I knew exactly what it was. "Massimo is too weak to do what needs to be done. He's always been too weak. But I'm not."
He raised the gun.
I moved without thinking. I stepped between Enzo and Nate, my arms spread wide like I could somehow shield him with my body. My heart was slamming against my ribs so hard I thought it might break through. "No."
"Laney, move." Nate tried to pull me back, but I planted my feet and refused to budge.
"I said no." I looked Enzo straight in the eye. My whole body was shaking, but my voice came out steady. "You want to kill someone? Fine. Kill me. But you leave him alone. He didn't do anything wrong."
"He slept with my brother's wife," Enzo said flatly. "That's wrong enough."
"He didn't. Whatever you think happened, you're wrong about him."
"Then tell me who the father is." Enzo's eyes narrowed. "If it's not him, tell me whose child you're carrying. Give me a name and maybe — maybe — I'll reconsider."
I opened my mouth. Closed it. My mind was spinning, a thousand thoughts crashing into each other like cars on a freeway.
If I told him the truth, he'd know I hadn't betrayed Massimo.
He'd know the child was his brother's. But Massimo didn't know yet.
I hadn't told anyone, not even him. I wasn't going to let him find out like this — second-hand, from Enzo, in this room.
And even if I said it, Enzo was certain.
He'd hear the truth as the desperate lie of a caught woman trying to save herself.
And if I told him it was Nate's, if I let him believe the lie he'd already convinced himself of, then Nate would die and it would be my fault.
"I'm not telling you anything," I said finally.
Enzo's face hardened. "Then you've made your choice."
"Laney, for God's sake—" Nate's hands closed on my shoulders, trying to move me, but I shook him off.
"No." I didn't look back at him. I kept my eyes on Enzo, on the gun in his hand, on the cold certainty in his expression. "I'm not moving. If you want to shoot him, you'll have to go through me first."
"That can be arranged," Enzo said.
The gun was pointed at my chest now. I could see his finger on the trigger. I could see the exact moment he decided to pull it.
I didn't flinch. I didn't move. I just stood there, between Enzo and Nate, and waited for whatever came next.