Chapter 13 #2
Rosa is in the kitchen making lunch and Luca is at the table coloring.
“Mama!” He jumps up and runs to hug my legs. “Look what Rosa taught me to make!”
He holds up a drawing of what might be a mansion or a hut. With five-year-old art it’s hard to tell.
“It’s beautiful, baby. Is that our house?”
“No, it’s Dante’s house. See, that’s his room, and that’s my room, and that’s your room!”
He points to various squares, and my chest tightens because he’s calling this place home now. Because in two weeks Dante has given him more stability than I could in five years of running.
“That’s wonderful, sweetheart.”
Rosa looks up from chopping vegetables and gives me a knowing smile. “Dante was looking for you earlier. Something about work.”
Right, and he had me backed against a bookshelf a few minutes ago.
“Yeah, I saw him already.”
Rosa chuckles, seeing how I frowned at the mention of his name. “He’s a good man underneath all that scary exterior. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, a good man,” I say sarcastically.
There’s a knock at the back door and Rosa moves to answer it. A woman around my age walks in with two kids trailing behind her—a boy about seven and a girl maybe four.
“Elena!” Rosa greets her warmly. “Perfect timing. I just made fresh lemonade.”
The woman, Elena, smiles and it transforms her whole face. She’s pretty in an effortless way, with dark curly hair pulled into a messy bun and kind brown eyes.
“I hope we’re not interrupting. Marco said you had guests and I thought maybe…” She trails off when she sees me, then extends her hand. “Hi, I’m Elena. Marco’s wife. You must be Scarlett.”
I shake her hand, surprised by how free she seems. How normal this feels. “Yeah. Nice to meet you.”
“These are my monsters.” She gestures to her kids who are already gravitating toward Luca’s coloring supplies. “Sofia and Michael. They’ve been begging to meet Luca since Marco mentioned there was another kid here.”
“Luca, baby, these are some new friends.”
Within seconds the three kids are settled at the table with crayons scattered everywhere, chattering away like they’ve known each other forever.
Elena sits across from me with a cup of coffee Rosa made and just starts talking. About normal things. About how Sofia refuses to eat anything green. About Michael’s obsession with dinosaurs. About the struggle of finding good schools in the area.
It’s so refreshingly ordinary that I find myself relaxing for the first time in weeks.
“So how are you settling in?” Elena asks. “I know this place can be overwhelming. All the security and the guards and the general…intensity of everything.”
“That’s one word for it.”
She laughs. “Marco warned me you had sass. I like it. Most people are too intimidated to be real around here.”
“I’m too tired to be anything but real.”
“I get that.” She takes a sip of her coffee. “For what it’s worth, you’re safe here. Dante’s…well, he’s Dante. But he protects his people. And apparently you and Luca are his people now.”
There’s something knowing in the way she says it that makes me wonder how much Marco has told her. How much everyone knows about the complicated situation I’m in.
We talk for another hour while Rosa watches the kids and makes sure they don’t destroy the kitchen. Elena tells me about the local farmer’s market, about the best pizza place that delivers, and about normal things I haven’t thought about in months.
It reminds me how isolated I’ve been from being on the run, how much I’ve been missing out socially.
By the time Elena leaves with her kids, I feel lighter and refreshed.
“She’s nice,” I tell Rosa as we clean up the coloring supplies.
“She is. And she understands this life better than most. You should spend more time with her.”
“I’d like that.”
The rest of the day passes in the same routine. Lunch with Luca and Rosa. Afternoon playing in the yard, the early winter sun warm and armed guards watching from a distance. Dinner with Dante where we barely speak and Luca fills the silence with stories about his day.
Bedtime is the worst part because Dante insists on being there for it. On reading stories and tucking Luca in and being a father.
And I have to watch. Have to see my son’s face light up when Dante walks into the room. Have to listen to them talk about knights and dragons and all the things little boys love.
I have to admit that Dante is actually good at this. Patient and kind and everything I didn’t expect.
“One more story!” Luca begs after Dante finishes the third book.
“Not tonight. It’s already past your bedtime.”
“But I’m not tired!”
“Yes you are. I can see your eyes trying to close.”
“No they’re not!”
Dante ruffles his hair. “Sleep now. We’ll read more tomorrow.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Luca considers this, then nods and snuggles deeper into his blankets. “Goodnight, Dante.”
“Goodnight, Luca.”
I wait until Dante leaves before tucking the blankets around Luca one more time and kissing his forehead.
The house is quiet when I finally head downstairs hours later. Everyone’s asleep or on patrol. The only sound is my footsteps.
I can’t sleep. I haven’t been able to sleep properly since we arrived. Too many thoughts racing through my head. Too many fears about what comes next. Too many confusing feelings about the man keeping us here.
I head to the kitchen for water, not bothering to turn on the lights. The moonlight through the windows is enough to see.
That’s when I see him.
Dante is sitting at the kitchen island in the dark, shirtless. His body is all carved muscle and lethal grace, with a glass of what looks like whiskey in his hand.
And those grey eyes immediately lock onto mine…