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It's a heartbreaking, the war between a mafia boss and a young girl caught in the crossfire. I can't help but empathize with her, recognizing the trauma etched into her every pore. Her body, speaks volumes about the horrors she's endured. As Tommaso persists, the girl breaks down. Tears stream down her face, tears of anguish and fear. She starts to pant and sob loudly. I can't stand by and watch this.
"Tommaso, " I speak up, "let me talk to her alone. Please. I know how to deal with this, I experienced it growing up. I get her." He looks at me, a mix of irritation and curiosity in his gaze. He narrows his eyes, clearly displeased with the interruption but, surprisingly, relents.
"Fine. But make it quick." I nod, appreciative of the small concession. As he exits the room, leaving us alone, I approach the young woman cautiously. Her eyes meet mine, and her sobs grow softer. I give her a small smile, trying to let her know I am not here to hurt.
It's tricky, though – stepping on eggshells around someone who's been through so much.
"Hey," I say, keeping my voice soft. She looks at me but doesn’t answer, those hazel eyes softening a bit. I crouch down to be on her level and give a smile.
"Hey," I say again gently. "I'm Ella Hart. I know you are in pain and I know this is tough, but we really need to find your husband."
She sniffs, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. “I don’t know where he is! I just told you!” I nod, understanding the skepticism in her response.
"I want to help you,” I give a pointed look at the bruise on her chest. “We can offer you safety in exchange for the information we need. Do you understand that?"
Her eyes search mine, a flicker of hope amidst the despair. "How?"
I give her a sympathetic look. “Away from him... your husband.” I touch her hand. “Look, I know those bruises, I've seen too many times on someone I loved. You don't have to live like this. You can start fresh, and we will help you, if you allow us to stop your husband. Please?"
She looks at me, frustration and agony in her tear-stained eyes. "You know nothing about… about living like this!" She gulps, trying to hold back her tears. I take a deep breath, deciding to share it.
"I do. My dad used to abuse my mom.” I grit my teeth. “I know that those bruises hurt way beyond the physical pain. You don't have to endure it. Nobody should have to. I promise we will keep you safe. Just trust me."
The vulnerability in her eyes deepens as she considers my words. "I... I can't tell you. He'll... he'll kill me."
I place a comforting hand on her quivering shoulder. "He won’t lay a finger on you. I’ll make sure of that. If you stay with him, he will kill you sooner or later."
She hesitates, the struggle evident on her face. "He will come after me… I... I'm pregnant." Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Oh God.
Pregnant, and in the midst of this nightmare. I can't imagine how hard this is for her right now. I lean in, my voice softening even more. "Even more of a reason to get away from him. You have to protect your baby now. We will get you to a place where you and your baby will be safe. I promise. But I need to know where Mauro is. We don’t have time. Can you do that for us?"
She sniffles, nodding slowly. "Ok." Relief washes over me as I realize she's willing to cooperate.
I take a final look at her smiling face and see my mom.
Chapter Thirty
TOMMASO
The scene hits hard as I watch from outside the office. Ella, with her soft words, does what my austerity couldn’t, she gets the woman to talk.
I stand in a dark corner, watching in surprise. Ella comes out, and I can't take my eyes off her. There's something in the air when she's around, a warmth that stays even after she's gone. And it puts everyone at ease.
It's weird how she makes me rethink things. My own rules. The woman listened to her. I expected her to resist, but Ella did it without being tough. It's like she has this quiet power over others. Myself included.
She walks past me, and I give a faint smile. She challenges my way of doing things. There's strength in being kind. I ask Francesco to take note of Mauro’s whereabouts. Now, it's time to finalize the plan.
"I have waited for this Francesco," I say as he falls into step beside me.
He nods, a silent acknowledgment of progress made. "What's the move?"
"We're going to catch Mauro off guard. The wife told us about his hideouts, the old warehouse near the docks. It's time we turn the tables on him." A plan is forming in my mind.
Francesco leans against the wall. "How are we doing this?"
I meet his gaze. "I'm taking him out. Alone."
He raises an eyebrow and straightens himself, understanding the weight behind my words. "You're going in alone? No men? I don’t think–"
