11
Luna
I hit call before I can overthink it, my fingers seeking the grounding rough surface of my rune pendant.
Delilah picks up immediately, her voice borderline hysterical.
“Luna! What the hell happened? I’ve been calling nonstop, and then your phone went off! Where are you!”
I force a chuckle, analyzing every tremor in her voice. “Take a breath, Delilah. I’m home now.”
“Take a breath? Where the hell were you!” Her voice cracks. “I was worried sick!”
Shoving aside the gnawing guilt—I focus on listening for clues. “You know the guy from last night—Rocky? He followed me into the bathroom.”
A long pause. “And?”
“He took me home.”
“You left with him? Are you insane, Luna? I told you what he is!” The shock in her voice sounds genuine.
“He didn’t hurt me, Delilah,” I say quickly. “I mean, it hurt, but I . . . I liked it.” I inject just enough breathless enthusiasm to make it believable.
“You slept with him.” It’s more an accusation than a question.
Okay. Not the reaction I was expecting, telling her I finally got my cherry popped, but hey. The woman was just sobbing with relief. I can’t exactly judge her for not hitting screech-level excitement two seconds later.
“That’s what I said. And now I’m back home. So you can stop worrying.”
Ano ther beat. “So let me get this straight . . . He fucked you.”
I groan for effect. “No, Delilah, he just patted me on the head a few times.”
“He’s not gay?” Disbelief colors Delilah’s voice, mixed with something suspiciously like rage.
“Nope,” I confirm. I don’t need to fake my conviction on this part. “Rocky is as straight as a fucking arrow.”
Another long pause.
Okay, give her time, Luna, she’s reeling.
“Did he do or say anything unusual?”
Seriously? That’s all you’ve got?
“Um, not really. Well, actually, he mentioned something weird . . . about staying away from Eduardo. Said he’s in a kidnapping ring with some woman or something,” I say in a rush. “Like I care. Dels, am I going to spill the tea here or what?”
The silence stretches a beat too long. “And you actually believed that bullshit?”
I suppress another groan. “It doesn’t matter what I believe, Dels. I’m not seeing him again.”
“Why not?”
“Girl, I can barely walk! I think he’s broken something inside me . And I’m fucking covered in bruises.”
Delilah’s sharp inhale crackles through the phone. “That sonofabitch! What did he do to you, Luna?”
Sensing Delilah’s annoyance, I twist the knife. “The better question is, what didn’t he do? He couldn’t get enough. Of everything. Girl, I’m literally sitting on ice as we speak.”
“This isn’t funny, Luna,” she snaps.
I ignore the chill running down my spine and force another giggle. “It is, a little. It’s either laugh or cry at the state of my vadge. He definitely shifted something around.”
“Christ! What a fuck ing bastard.” Her tone drips with disgust . . . and something else. Regret? “Did he at least use protection?”
What, you don’t want your precious ‘merchandise’ knocked up?
Smirking, I fake a gasp. “Oh shit.”
“Luna!” She sputters, “I can’t believe you could be so . . . so stupid. So reckless.”
“What? It’s not a big deal. I’ll go to a drugstore later this week. Although I’m right in the middle of my cycle, so there’s a higher chance of . . . oh, never mind, the morning-after pill should still be good for a few days—”
“Not a fucking chance!” she cuts in on a yell. “I’m booking you a gyne appointment right now. Gosh, do you have any idea how much venereal disease that man is harboring?”
“Oh, yeah. You’re right. I wasn’t thinking. But I can’t come out today.”
“What, like you’re grounded?” she sneers.
“No, but it’ll be hard ditching the guards today. I was out all night, Dels.”
She snaps, “Well, think of how creative you’re going to need to get if you wind up with the clap! Or worse, get knocked up. Besides,” she continues with a sudden urgency. “You still have your meeting with Jason Wilkes of Temptations.”
I’m pretty sure I don’t. “Oh God, was that today?”
“Yep. So you better add that right on to your reasons to escape.”
I feign a spark of excitement. “I completely forgot about that meeting!”
“So, are you coming, or am I going to have to meet him on my own?” She gripes.
“It’ll be tricky, but I’ll have to try.”
“ Good.” She sighs in relief. Too much relief. “I’m calling Dr. Garamond now. I’ll text you the appointment details and meet you there. Got it?”
“Fine, mom,” I huff.
“And Luna?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to need details. Every last fucking detail in fucking technicolor, you disgusting slut.”
This time, I don’t have to force my howl of laughter. But the moment I disconnect, my stomach lurches as my hands start to shake. The pieces click into place like tumblers in a lock.
Rocky was right. There are sharks circling me. Only, I don’t bother to pray that my father protects me. He can’t. No one can.
Within minutes, my phone vibrates with a text:
Lucky for you, Dr. Garamond is free. Even luckier that she has a 10 a.m. slot. No need to sneak around. Just swing over to the clinic on your way to college. I’ll meet you there.
That was quick. Too quick. I check the clock. It’s almost nine.
I approach the floor-length mirror, running shaky fingers through my tresses. A dark chuckle escapes me as I wonder about the going rate for virgins on the flesh market and how much they’ll need to knock off my price now that I’m supposedly no longer a virgin.
And here I was, thinking the worst of my problems was getting force-tested for a genetic condition.
I g lance at my phone, its weight suddenly unbearable in my hand. There’s only one person who’d know what to do right now.
Reese, the traitorous bitch.
Still, I can’t deny it. Reese is as resourceful as they come. Her entire family was wiped out by a murderous old recluse who’s still hunting her. She’s only survived this long because of the layers she’s buried herself under.
The ache in my chest sharpens. I’d call her—if I hadn’t deleted her number.
No, I’m alone in this. There’s no one I can trust. And until I learn not to pick two-faced backstabbing bitches as best friends, I’m better off friendless.
“A moving target is the hardest to hit.”
Clemenza’s voice echoes from the past—the summer I turned fifteen. Papa made him teach me to shoot—and avoid getting shot.
“Always keep moving, Luna. Standing still makes you a sitting duck.”
And that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Move.
I strip, tossing my rumpled dress into the laundry basket. The scalding shower offers a brief respite from the chaos in my head. For a few minutes, I’m just . . . invisible. Not Luna Romano, Mafia princess. Target. Goods for sale.
Back in my room, I scan my closet. Today’s goal: blend in. An ordinary business school student. I choose a short black skirt, tight but easy to move in, paired with my trusty clubbing boots. Three inches high, but the platform sole is sturdy enough if I need to run. And let’s face it—running might be on the cards today.
I s hrug on a loose-fitting black blazer over a thin white cami and leave my hair loose, the waves brushing past my shoulders. Good for hiding my face if needed.
Taking a deep breath, I dial Papa. It rings once. Twice. I tap my boot, steadying my nerves. One last chance.
“Luna,” his voice is brusque.
I shut my eyes against a wave of despair. Already a lost cause.
“I’m about to head out for morning lectures, but I really need to talk to you alone, Papa. It’s important. Please, Papa.”
The pause stretches as he seems to weigh my request. Please, please.
“I’m busy, stellina. It’ll have to wait.”
“It can’t wait!” I bite out, my frustration bleeding through—a real emotion in a sea of the lies I usually wield. “I’m coming to see you now.”
“Only if you’re happy to say what you need in a roomful of Romano soldiers. Otherwise, you’ll wait until dinner,” he says, then the line goes dead.
I stare at the phone in disbelief. Clemenza often joins us for dinner. What part of ‘alone’ doesn’t Papa get? Although, considering Clemenza knows me better than he does, why would Papa imagine I’d want to speak to him without Clemenza there?
The irony burns—the man I’m trying to warn Papa about is the one he trusts the most with me.
I find Diego pacing outside my door. “You ready, signorina?” he asks, his face a mask of concern.
I force a smile. “I’m ready. But you’re not coming with me today.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “I can’t leave you unguarded, signorina, not after last night . ”
I slip on my sunglasses. “I don’t want you. Get someone else, Diego.”
For a moment, I think he’ll argue. He hesitates, but then he nods slowly as he realizes the favor I’m doing him. He also understands I’m not coming home tonight. It’s better for his survival if he’s not the one I disappear on twice in a row.
“I’ll get you Fabrizio.” He makes a call while I head to the car.
“Wait here,” I tell Fabrizio, who’s barely said two words to me. Diego usually insists on walking me to the lecture hall and would occasionally sit in, but this one? He’s green. Less cautious.
“Are you sure, signorina?” He looks uneasy but not bold enough to challenge me.
“I’ll be fine,” I lie, stepping out of the car and slinging my purse over my shoulder. The lecture hall entrance looms ahead like a gateway to freedom.
The hall is almost empty; the next lecture is not due to start for another thirty minutes. Once I’m in, I veer left toward the emergency exit. My heart pounds as I push open the heavy door and slip outside.
No standing still, Luna.
I order an Uber, clutching my phone tightly as I count down the minutes until the car arrives. I deliberately empty my mind of every thought, especially about where I’m headed.
The car pulls up, and I hesitate.
This is insane. I have no idea what’s waiting for me on the other end.
But then, I remember Clemenza’s mocking smile and the way Delilah arranged the ObGyn appointment and I make myself climb in.
I have no choice. I have to keep moving.
Even if I’m running straight into a nother trap.