I should have walked her to the door of that plane. I let her go earlier than I should have because I was struggling to control my emotions. I thought taking out the tail would be enough, meaning I underestimated the men after her. That doesn’t sit right with me either.
“Stay on the plane if you want. But if we lose a man, it’s on you.”
I turn and walk back into the main part of the plane.
HEADED WEST
Copenhagen, Lisbon, Vienna, Budapest, Edinburgh, Moscow?—
No, not Moscow.
I halt my recitation of European cities, which was probably premature anyway. I’m in Madrid, very much under my father’s control. But when—and I have to think when, not if—I’m able to get away, I need to know where I’m headed. I never made it inside Dublin’s airport, let alone decided on a destination.
“Don’t do anything dumb,” Enzo says as I fiddle with my necklace. “You’ve already fucked us over enough.”
I recoil from the blatant hostility in my brother’s voice, glancing away and out the window. I’m not sure what time it is—late enough the sun has already set. Leaving Italy doesn’t seem like much of an accomplishment as I stare into the dark abyss past the lamps lighting the road.
This version of Enzo is unrecognizable from the brother who used to slip me treats. Even from the one who lounged beside me at the pool. As soon as I stole that drive, I became his biggest enemy. I wonder what could possibly be on it. WishI’d prioritized searching the contents during my week in Paris rather than finding a job that I left with no notice.
“How much longer?” I ask Gio, who’s driving.
“Don’t answer that,” Enzo tells Gio. To me, he says, “Traitors can’t ask questions.”
I scowl, crossing my arms across my chest right as the car screeches to a sudden halt. The strap of my seat belt scrapes my neck as I’m abruptly yanked back against the leather seat.
Enzo is calling out orders I can hardly hear over the blood pounding in my ears. I’m trapped between elation and fear as the men around me react, unsure what is happening and whether I should hope for it to succeed.
The gunfire starts a few seconds later, and I can truly hear nothing over the constant noise.
Enzo unbuckles my seat belt, and then his hand lands on my shoulder, forcing me to crouch down in the footwell. The carpet burns my palms as I land awkwardly, my heartbeat a wild ricochet in my chest.
“Why aren’t we moving?” Enzo shouts.
“They shot out the tires,” Gio calls back.
Gunfire halts, the sudden silence deafening after the assault.
Hope blooms. Wouldn’t an enemy have aimed for people, not tires?
Enzo swears loudly, withdrawing a gun from underneath the seat. Belatedly, I notice Gio and Antonio, who’s riding in the passenger seat, are already armed. Enzo is on his phone, relaying the situation in clipped syllables to someone. Salvatore probably or a local ally who can bring backup.
Icy terror freezes in my chest as I focus on the gun my brother is holding. I’m not scared for myself, although I probably should be. I have no way of knowing who is attacking us. No part of this plan was well thought out. Even calling it a plan is generous. But the point of it was not to injure my brother.Or for my father’s men to get killed in an ambush. My loyalty to my family might be hanging on by a thread, but it’s still there. I don’t want revenge; I want freedom.
Enzo is still on the phone.
I have just enough space to lift my elbow and flip the lock on the door. Then grab the handle and shove.
“We don’t have five—fuck. Carina!”
I half tumble, half stumble onto the road. Blood rushes back into my legs, sending hot prickles skittering across my skin.
There are two black SUVs on the road that’s otherwise empty. One angled ahead of the car I was in. One parked behind.
I scan the faces of the men standing in the street, blinded by the headlights beaming this way. Guns are raised, but no one fires at me.
Enzo yells my name again. I have seconds before my brother emerges after me. He knows I’m desperate. We’re on a highway in the middle of nowhere. My options are extremely limited.
Finally, I see him. Start running toward, rather than away from, the attackers. They let me pass, guns raised but no longer firing.
