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1
Lucia
The bright lights blind me momentarily as I step inside the building. I blink, letting my eyes adjust, then I glance cautiously behind me. I half-expect Ciro or one of the others to be ten steps behind me, but the door stays blessedly closed.
Good.
The train station is large, the swell of commuters and tourists making it easy to get lost in the crowd. This many people constantly coming and going has had its toll on the station, and its age is evident from cracked floors and filthy walls. But it doesn't have to be fancy and new for my purposes.
All it has to do is get me the fuck away from this place, and I’ll be perfectly happy to spend the price of a ticket. More. Anything. I’d empty my father’s bank accounts if it meant being free of him.
It means leaving my mother and sister behind, but I can’t stay there anymore. Ican’t.
I glance behind myself again before walking to the window, handing over cash for a last-minute ticket onto the train. I'm cutting it close, which makes me nervous. If I miss this train—or if it's late—it gives them time to figure out which of the ways I’ve chosen to run. I’ve paid for those alternative routes on my credit cards, though, so they can try to track me that way.
Plane—two locations, international and domestic.
Train—all the way across the country, to three different places.
Bus—as far as it’ll go.
But the clock is ticking, and the longer I’m away, the more time they have to discover that I’m gone and track me down. To discover that the charges on my credit card mean nothing, and that I have another plan entirely. Once they do… There will be hell to pay.
Thankfully, the train is only five minutes late, and I board it along with all the others wanting to leave town on a Friday evening. Going home after a long day of work, maybe, or starting their summer vacations. I avoid meeting anybody's eyes. I don't want to give them a reason to remember me.
I've dressed down, too. Normally I wouldn't be caught dead in ratty jeans or a baseball cap, my hair twisted up in a bun underneath it. I even bought a men's sweater to hide my form. If anybody sees me, they'll think I'm some skinny teen boy. The beat-up backpack and worn sneakers complete the look.
I look nothing like Lucia Bellini, daughter of a prominent mob boss.
It's not until I find a seat that I relax a fraction.
I made it. I actually fucking made it.
I squeeze my eyes closed tight, unsure of how that was even possible. Well, I had fucked Ciro senseless before I’d told him I was going to bed, so he’d probably been too sated to pay attention as I’d crept through the mansion. For all the guards we have, it would seem like someone would’ve been there.
Someone usually is.
If I believed in fate, I’d think this was meant to be. I’m not supposed to be stuck in that house, not supposed to be engaged to the terrifying asshole Daddy’s trying to curry favor with. I’m supposed to befree.
I’ve never been on my own before, and the thought is both exhilarating and terrifying. I’m not exactly street savvy, but I’m not an idiot, either. I pulled out enough cash to keep me going for a while, and I’m no stranger to hiding accounts from prying eyes.
I can do this.
“Excuse me, miss?”
My body jerks, and I look up to see a tall man with muscles bulging beneath the tight shirt he's wearing. He's got thick black hair, a scar on his temple, and a cruel smile. He looks dark, dangerous, like someone my father might hire.
Fuck.
Maybe they did find out after all. I’d thought I’d been so clever, buying myself a way out on the credit cards my father knew about and paying cash on the real way out, but obviously someone had caught my trail.
“Yes?” I ask, my heart pounding in my ears. We’re on a public train. He won’t cause a scene. He won’t try to drag me back. There are too many witnesses, and even with people’s willful blindness, they won’t let some man drag a screaming person off the train—especially at night.
The odds are in my favor, aren’t they? Then again, I’d thought that before, when I’d managed to escape the grounds and I’d been so damn sure I hadn’t been followed.
"I need you to come with me," he says. The badge he flashes at me is very shiny and threatening.
It's also very, very fake.
