33. Valeria
VALERIA
After a few minutes of back-and-forth between Yevgeniy and Nico, I find myself at a card table with the two of them, and we’re joined by Don Salvatore and Dom.
Nico demanded that I sit on his lap, which the rest of the men took in stride, and I made no effort to fight. After the past few hours, sitting in his arms feels like the safest place in the world. I rest one hand over my belly, and Nico lays his hand over mine.
“I think we know, now,” Yevgeniy says, his hands clasped together on top of the table.
Dom keeps his gun pointed in Yevgeniy’s direction, which he agreed to so long as we talk.
“That I do not wish to be your enemy, Don Salvatore. The girl’s brother brought her to me on Ottavio’s orders.
And I accepted, because this—how do you say—escalation has gone too far. We are too close to war.”
“So you will betray one of your oldest allies, to avoid a fight with us?” Salvatore asks.
Yevgeniy makes a noise of disgust. “My ‘oldest ally’ as you say wants me and my men killed just to teach his son a lesson. He is acting different.” Yevgeniy throws a curious glance at Nico. “I have never seen him act so… without thought.”
“He’s dying,” Nico says bluntly. His arms tighten around me. “He’s trying to do what he can now to preserve his legacy.”
“Ah.” Yevgeniy nods. “I understand then. Well, I do not wish to be a part of his plans. Don Salvatore, I am not your enemy.”
Across the table, Don Salvatore nods in quiet agreement.
“So that’s it?” Nico demands. “We all just go back to the wedding and act like nothing’s happened?”
“You are killing her brother, yes?” Yevgeniy asks with a roll of his hand. “That will be good warning for others.”
“My father isn’t going to just stop.” Nico’s chest rises and falls against my back. “You know, Salvatore. Valeria isn’t safe.”
Salvatore taps against the top of the table with his fingertips, seeming to be deep in thought, before his amber eyes—so much like Nico’s—flick to us. “There is another option,” he says. “You could fake your deaths.”
Dom bursts into laughter. “You never fail to surprise me, Turi.”
“You have another exit through your office, correct?” Don Salvatore asks Yevgeniy.
The pakhan’s eyes narrow. “My secret exit?”
“We can pretend Valeria and Nico were shot and killed here. Dom and I will return upstairs while Yevgeniy takes them through the side exit.”
“How will you hide the bodies?” I ask and force myself not to react as Don Salvatore swivels his gaze to me, all of Nico’s intensity with none of the love.
“I was thinking a fire.”
“A fire won’t be enough to hide the fact that there’s no bodies.”
“I was thinking a very big fire.”
Yevgeniy seems to catch on first because he groans. “And so my Golden Apple takes the hit for this Italian mess?”
“I can promise you the funds for a bigger hotel.”
Yevgeniy tilts his head in consideration. “I do like the sound of bigger.”
“Then what happens?” Nico asks.
Salvatore’s completely calm as he says, “I fear the pakhan’s violence. I will immediately send my wife with Dom and Annetta on my private plane to a safe house in Germany.”
A strange feeling swells in my chest.
“And then what?” Nico asks.
“You will wait there for a few weeks as I get false documents made for you and Valeria. Then you will move to a new home in a new location where you will live the rest of your days in complete, unremarkable obscurity.”
I identify the feeling.
It’s hope—wild, reckless, champagne-bubbles hope.
“Nico,” I whisper.
He squeezes me against him. I turn and meet his eye, the air rushing out of my lungs like I’m about to leap from a skyscraper.
He feels it too.
“We’ll have to leave everything behind,” he says. “No one can know we’ve gone. Your friends will have to think you’re dead. We won’t be able to come back.”
I think of Lacey and Mei.
My heart aches terribly.
Lacey, my best friend, who’s only ever shown me love and understanding, who’s always been my rock as we’ve fought through life together.
I close my eyes for a moment. But if we stay, they’ll have to grieve for me anyway when Nico’s dad finishes what he’s started.
I nod. “Let’s do it,” I whisper.
Nico tilts his head forward to press his forehead to mine. His thumb strokes my belly. We have another life to care for now. We have to do what’s right by her. “Okay.”
“So we are decided?” Yevgeniy asks.
“Yes,” Nico says, squeezing my hand tightly. I squeeze back just as hard.
Yevgeniy slaps his hands on the table, stands, and wanders through the chairs and tables, picking up beer and liquor bottles. “I have not done this in years,” he says with a boyish excitement.
Dom seems to catch on to what the pakhan is planning, because he stands and walks around the place too, collecting bottles.
When Yevgeniy drops off his first haul at the table in front of Nico and Salvatore with a few old rags, the intent becomes clear.
We’re making Molotov cocktails.
I move to sit on the chair next to Nico and get to work with him and Don Salvatore.
The three of us work in silence to stuff the bottles with the rags. It’s oddly familiar—like we’re making collages in a craft circle, and I have to suppress a manic giggle at the mental image.
When we’ve gathered enough, Yevgeniy gestures toward the elevators. “Don Salvatore, Dom. I will start the fire and shoot a few bullets, yes?”
I look to Nico, and he grins at me, his eyebrows raised. It feels like we’re the only ones who seem to recognize what madness this is.
We need to be serious, but the look on Nico’s face has me biting back a smile and turning the other direction so I don’t laugh.
“Yeah, we’re ready,” Dom says. “See you guys on the other side.”
He walks with Salvatore in the opposite direction as Yevgeniy brings a lighter toward the table filled with bottles. Nico pulls his phone out of his pocket and throws it several feet away. It lands with a crack.
Once the first rag catches light, Yevgeniy pulls a gun from the back of his pants. Nico tucks me against his chest as Yevgeniy covers his ears and shoots several times at the ground.
The fire moves hungrily across the table now, consuming the liquor soaked into the table. Yevgeniy scoops up a few more bottles, lighting and hurling them as he herds us toward the back wall of his basement.
I duck my head when glass explodes behind us. Nico pushes me in front of him, shielding me with his body.
Yevgeniy opens a door and ushers us into a small office with a big wooden desk and a bookcase along one wall. He points to the bookcase. “Pull down statue’s head.”
Nico and I move to the bookcase as Yevgeniy dives behind his desk and stuffs his arms full of paperwork.
I spot the statue first, a little casting of a man’s head—it takes some force, but eventually, Nico and I manage to pull it to one side.
The bookcase moves on a track, revealing a brightly lit, concrete hallway.
“Let’s go,” Yevgeniy says, dozens of folders trapped against his chest.
“You don’t have shoes,” Nico says by way of explanation before scooping me into his arms and carrying me through the dusty tunnel. I hook my arms around his neck and press my face against his chest.
He came for me—for us.
Another thought, one almost too fragile to hold in my mind, comes unbidden, one about happiness and safety and a bright and tender future.
Nico helps me to a ladder, and we all crawl to the top where Yevgeniy opens a trap door. He goes first, heaving and cursing in Russian.
A single, plain car sits just outside the exit.
Yevgeniy rushes to the driver seat and throws his papers inside, the trunk popping open. “Get in.”
When Nico starts to pull me toward the backseats, Yevgeniy waves his hands and shouts, “No, in trunk!”
“We’re not getting in the trunk,” Nico says.
Yevgeniy taps his forehead. “You do if you do not want to get caught. Now get inside.”
“Nico, come on,” I say and tug at his arm. “He’s right.”
Yevgeniy smiles. “Smart girl.”
Muttering under his breath about crazy Russians, Nico follows me to the trunk. He helps me inside and gets in after, and Yevgeniy slams the trunk shut, plunging us into darkness.
Nico and I brace ourselves against the interior of the trunk, and at the first bump, I knock my head against the felt interior.
“Ow.”
Nico reaches for me in the dark. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, biting back a complaint at another bump.
“And the baby? Is she okay?”
I have no idea, but at the worry in his voice, I tell a white lie. “She’s okay, Nico. You kept us both safe.”
He’s silent for a long time as a car drives on. “Val, I’m sorry—”
“Don’t say you’re sorry,” I say fiercely and clutch at his hands. “You said you’d protect us and you did. You came for us. I’m so fucking scared about what happens next, but as long as it’s with you, I know we’re going to be okay. I love you.”
He fumbles for my face and manages to kiss me, awkward and clumsy in the dark.
“I love you too,” he whispers against my mouth.
The car rolls to a stop.
Boots stomp next to us, and the trunk pops open.
“They are going to meet you here,” Yevgeniy says.
I look around, blinking against the dim sunlight.
We’re in an underpass, worn concrete walls shielding us on two sides.
Nico gets out of the trunk first and helps me to my feet. He holds me against his side.
“I am going to leave now, for the cameras,” Yevgeniy says. He nods toward me with a small smile and shakes Nico’s hand. “Good luck.”
Nico drags Yevgeniy into a hug. “Thank you.”
Yevgeniy smiles, wriggles his keys in front of Nico’s face like an inside joke. “Nice try, but I keep my keys this time.”
Nico scrubs over his head. “Yeah, sorry about that.”
Yevgeniy gives a short laugh. “That is okay.” He mimes shooting Nico with a finger gun. “Because I have just killed you for it.” The door cuts off his wild laughter as he gets into his car and drives off.
We tuck ourselves behind the columns of the bridge to hide from any potential cars and wait in the gloomy cold.
“There’s no going back now,” Nico says. His breath ruffles the top of my head.
“Thank god,” I say, smiling against his chest.
Outside the underpass, rain starts to fall.
It doesn’t take long for a black SUV to pull up. The door opens, and Annetta jumps out. Nico steps to the side as she throws her arms around me.
“I’m so glad to see you!” she says. She breaks the hug off quickly and moves behind me. “We have to move fast, okay? We don’t have a lot of time. I brought clothes for you guys. Nico, Dom has a spare outfit for you.”
Dom comes out of the car next. I catch a glimpse of Salvatore and Marisol in the driver and passenger’s seat, speaking quietly to each other.
Annetta passes me a shirt and grabs my robe, holding it up to create a curtain of privacy.
“Thank you for coming,” I say as I shimmy out of the nightgown and yank on the shirt. The hem comes up to my belly button.
“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”
“How did the wedding go?”
I catch her grin as she moves in front of me. “Oh, everyone was furious.”
She passes me sweatpants, which fall just past my knees.
“Sorry,” she says. “I only had time to get my clothes.”
Nico comes around the car, swimming in what must be Dom’s shorts and shirt.
Annetta ushers us all into the car and has Nico and me sit in the back of the SUV, next to giant suitcases.
“Hope you guys aren’t claustrophobic,” Dom says with a laugh before he slams the rear door shut.
Nico and I catch each other’s eye. He smiles, and I reach over to grab his hand.
“It’s just to get onto the plane,” Annetta assures us, her voice carrying over the seats as Don Salvatore drives.
This is really happening.
“Annetta,” I call to her, “my friends, Lacey and Mei, please, I know…” Tears prick my eyes. I know Lacey would understand. I just wish I could tell her. “Can you take care of them?”
Her voice is soft with emotion. “Of course, Val. They won’t ever want for a thing, I promise. And, by the way,” she says, peeking over the seats to smile warmly at me, “congratulations on the baby.”
My free hand goes to my belly, and I squeeze Nico’s hand. “Thank you.” My eyes fill with tears. “I’m so happy.”
It sounds ridiculous to say, but it’s true.
After so much fighting and scrambling and fear and uncertainty, I have a husband and I have a baby and I have a chance at a beautiful future. I swipe at my face.
We’re going to be okay.