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We’ve been flying for around fifteen minutes, leaving the nightmare that is Rafaele Bressan behind us. Since crossing Ostia there’s nothing but water beneath us.
The weather has taken a turn for the worse. Ferocious waves crash against the jagged rocks below, and the helicopter sways in the wind. Dark clouds gather above us, and the moonlight is lost in the dark waters of the Tyrrhenian Sea as a thunderstorm breaks out. The first drops of rain hit the helicopter's windshield, whipping against the metal.
"Looks like we're in for quite a storm." Fiero’s voice comes loudly over the headset. He looks composed, focused on piloting the chopper through this turbulent weather, while I can't shake the fear clawing at my chest.
I wrap my arms around myself, sitting on the edge of my seat. "I don't like storms, Fiero, especially not flying in one." Lightning cracks across the sky, and its electric light shows me just how choppy the waters are getting.
Fiero's strong hand rests on my shoulder, offering some comfort. "Where are we going, Fiero?" I manage to choke out, trying to steady my voice.
"Relax, Romola," he says, his voice a mixture of reassurance and determination. "We're heading towards the grottos near Ostia, along the Lazio shoreline.”
“There are grottoes along Ostia?” I ask in disbelief. I’ve lived in Rome my whole life, yet I've never heard of these.
“The caves and grottos of Ostia are believed to be haunted for hundreds of years. Locals never venture, and the rocks are so dangerous that the government has banned any civilians near them.”
“So why the hell are we going there?” I scream over the helicopter's turbulence and thunder.
“That's where my family has hidden the diamond for decades. Tonight, we can complete the Heart of Italy”.
"Your family's secret hiding place...of course," I murmur. Anxiousness coils with excitement at the thought of seeing the diamond completed.
We hit sudden turbulence, and the helicopter lurches violently, tossing us around like rag dolls. I tense my knees and shoulders and desperately cling to my seat. Once Fiero stabilizes the chopper, he looks over at me with wretched concern.
I don’t deserve this man; he’s a gift from the gods. All I can ask for is that my presence will somehow help him through this night.
"Trust me, Romola," Fiero’s voice in my earphones pulls me out of my inner turmoil. "I'll get us safely down."
The pain in my chest eases just a little. I reach over and cusp his cheek in my hand. “I know,” giving him the smallest smile.
He’s saved my life in more ways than one. I tell myself I need to trust him to get us through this flight. I trust in his ability, so far he’s given me no reason to think otherwise. His words and my reasoning restore some of my inner balance, but a lingering unease remains in the pit of my stomach.
I glance back down at the raging sea below, praying that we make it through this tempest unscathed.
I turn around to see how deep we are in the Tyrrhenian Sea and how far we are from land. Given the weather, should we turn back and descend?
As I glance back, the moon casting an eerie glow, my gaze is drawn to the wet wings of a small plane emerging from behind thick rain clouds. It seems to be trailing us. Panic rises like bile in my throat because I realize this is no coincidence.
No hobbyist would be out here in this weather.
"Fiero, there's a plane following us!" My voice comes out shrill over my mic.
"Damn it," he mutters under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he assesses the situation. His grip on the controls tightens, knuckles turning white. "It must be Rafaele. Stay calm, Romola. I won't let him get us."
What would happen if Rafaele catches up to us. Would he kill Fiero right in front of my eyes, like he did my father? My entire neck, chest and throat clench, and I pray that if he must kill us, he takes me first. I’m too selfish to look on as Fiero dies.
Take me. Take me first, please. It’s my one selfish wish.
"Promise me," I’m nearly hysterical, looking into his emerald green eyes, searching for the strength I need to face what's coming. "Promise me you won’t die tonight,” I cry out, grabbing his hand.
He tears his hand from my grip. I sit there, stunned at his reaction, when he roars at me. “No one’s dying tonight, cara mia. At least, no one in this plane!”
Fiero moves with urgency, his fingers dancing over the controls as he banks hard to come up alongside Rafaele's aircraft. The wind howls outside, rain pelting against the windows as if attempting to force its way in.
"Stay low, Romola. Our cockpit is a vulnerable target," Fiero instructs firmly. I nod, gripping the edge of my seat as he expertly aligns our chopper with the plane. My eyes catch a glimpse of a faceless figure, and my mind paints a determined grimace on his face.
"Romola," Fiero says, his eyes never leaving the controls. "I'm going to try and force him closer to the shoreline. It'll be risky, but we have no other choice."
"Alright," I breathe, trying to push away the fear that threatens to consume me. "Do what you have to do."
