Salvatore silences him. He still appears uneasy, but he makes the same leap of faith I did in trusting him. He motions to the gate guard, and it swings open.
I turn and walk through the opening, joining my brothers.
ARE YOU WITH ME?
There’s sudden commotion in the hallway outside. Scuffling. A shout.
I jump to my feet as a fresh jolt of adrenaline floods my system, recalling the many men I saw stationed upstairs. I can’t kill all of them, but I can kill as many as I can.
The absurdity of that thought hits like a smack to the face. I hardly recognize myself, steadily preparing to murder someone, or someones. Not the sort of unfamiliarity I expected. I’m not horrified by this version of myself; I can’t believe the me of two months ago would have been cowering, terrified in the corner, with no idea how to fire a gun.
I hear a shot, then, “Carina?”
I freeze, glancing around. It sounded like it came from the hallway, not the speakers.
“Carina!” Closer, this time, accompanied by banging on the door.
It’s Enzo’s voice, I’m certain. And if it’s not a recording, he’s … here.
I run toward the door, keeping a hold on my gun in case this is a trick. I know my family must be looking for me. Enzo might have been captured, and they’re using him to lure me out.
“Enzo?”
“She’s in there,” I hear him say. Louder, “Stand back, Carina.”
“Wait!” I call out. “I have the code: 7-9-3-4-2.”
I hear the beep of buttons being pressed, then a click as the locks disengage. My heart is beating so fast that it feels like it’ll fracture my ribs. I feel dizzy from lack of sleep, and lack of food, and a sudden surge of hope.
The door swings open, and Enzo is there. He’s wearing a heavy-duty vest and a helmet and is holding a gun five times the size of mine, but it’s definitely him. Leo is with him, dressed identically. There’s a dead guard—one of Nico’s men—slumped in a chair beside the door. Blood trickles from a hole in his white shirt.
Both my brothers scan my appearance. I know I look rough—tangled hair, stained dress, bandaged arm.
“Are you okay?” Leo asks.
I nod. “I’ll be better when I’m out of this house.”
Enzo grins. He looks more himself since I’m accustomed to seeing some variation of a smirk on his face as he says, “Wasn’t planning on staying myself. Hospitality sucks.”
Now that I’m outside the white room, I can hear gunfire overhead.
“We’ve got her,” Leo says. “All teams, we have her. Over.” He repeats the sentences in English, then nods at Enzo. “You go first. I’ll cover.”
“Stay between us,” Enzo tells me, then starts walking.
“Where’s Lev?” I ask.
“Upstairs,” Leo replies.
I glance above, where the sound of shots is ongoing, a bolt of fear—not for myself—appearing and settling in my empty stomach.
We walk the reverse route from yesterday, reaching the bottom of the stairs a couple of minutes later. I’m shocked to find my father and Luca waiting there.
“Tesoro.” Salvatore wraps his arms around me, squeezing tight.
“Papà. What are you?—”
“Quiet,” Luca hisses, holding a hand up to his ear. He listens, then nods. “Now.”
