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She whimpers and pulls it back, diverting her gaze.
She has been so brave and so focused on helping me that it didn’t even occur to me that she's been through a lot tonight as well. What if she’s injured and keeping it a secret from me by putting on a false tough front for my benefit?
"Romola," I say gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Tell me what’s going on, please.”
She hesitates for a moment before answering, her voice strained. "It’s nothing, Fiero. We need to keep going."
“No," I insist as I notice her wincing in pain. "Your wrist... is it alright? When I grabbed you earlier, did I hurt you? I won’t be moving forward until you tell me."
“But Rafaele…” she tries arguing.
“Fuck Rafaele, Romola!” I bellow into the cave, my voice echoing off the walls. “I care about you. I need to know if you’re alright!”
She glances down at her wrist, looking nervous. "I think one of the smaller bones might be broken," she admits, cradling it delicately against her chest.
A wave of guilt rushes over me at not having noticed her pain. I feel selfish and useless. Without further hesitation, I tear off a strip of pant fabric from the knee down and skilfully wrap it around Romola's injured wrist, doing my best to provide support and alleviate some of the pain.
“This should hold for now,” I nod. “I’d like to make you a neck support, but if we have to move, it’s best to stay as flexible as possible.”
"Thank you, Fiero," she whispers, nodding at me. "This is better, much better.”
“It’s not good enough,” I growl. “When we get out of here, I promise nothing like this will ever happen again.”
“Big promise,” she jokes, giving me a wry smile.
“I’ll have you know,” I raise an eyebrow at her. “I’ve never broken a promise.”
"Well, we better keep moving,” she winks at me. “Before Rafaele puts an end to all these promises.”
I snort and roll my eyes, knowing she’s fully right.
As I guide us deeper into the caves, I remain fully focused, afraid of taking the wrong turn. I've been here several times before, with my father, but never alone and never under so much pressure. I try to recall the intricate maze-like layout of these caves.
The air is thick and heavy with moisture, the sound of the surf now replaced by the dripping water echoing like whispers in the darkness. We've been walking—no, limping—for what feels like hours. I’m starting to feel thirsty, but I know we can't afford to stop—not yet.
"Are you sure this is the right way?" Romola's voice trembles slightly, betraying her exhaustion. She leans against a wall, her injured wrist cradled protectively against her other hand. It's clear that her pain is growing worse, but she remains as determined as ever.
"Si, mia bella," I reply, my voice strained from the effort of supporting all my weight on one injured foot. I promise we’ll reach it soon.”
As we navigate through narrower tunnels, our bodies press close together on many of the turns, and we’re both comfortable with it – like we were always meant to be working as a team.
"Almost there," I murmur, taking a second to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She turns her face to give me that smile that lights my world. We round a corner, and I can see the point where the water turns to land up ahead, signaling our destination.
“Right there, see?” I bellow in excitement. “Woo-hoo!”
“There?” she points at the end wall, full of rocks. “You sure?”
“Oh,” I rub my hands together. “I’m sure.”
We finally step out of the water and onto dry land. With Romola’s help, we reach the seemingly innocuous wall of rock formations of varying kinds. My fingers brush over the rough surface, searching for the familiar stones. A sharp edge nicks my skin, but I barely notice.
“Where is it? Where is it?” I mutter over and over again.
“Where’s what?” she asks, wide-eyed.
At last, I find it. That one particular rock that’s got the edges of a square but looks round.
"Watch closely," I instruct, turning and tapping the rocks in a precise sequence that may seem like random fumbling to an untrained eye.
