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"Over there," Jasmine suggests, pointing to a small clearing surrounded by tall vines. "It looks like the perfect place to wait."
"Good eye," I reply, leading her towards the spot. As we settle down, the soft grass beneath us provides a comfortable cushion. We sit close, our bodies pressed together for warmth.
"Can you imagine living here, Dario?" Jasmine asks, her voice wistful. "Away from the mafia?"
I nod, allowing myself to be swept up in the fantasy. "Yeah, I can see it. Waking up each morning to the sound of birds singing, tending to the vines... it sounds like heaven."
"Would you still want this life if you weren't in the mafia?" she whispers, her eyes searching mine for an answer.
"Jasmine, my mother wanted a life like this too." I confess, my heart swelling with pain. "Sometimes, I wonder. Is it living? The life I have? To answer your question, yes, I'd want this life, mafia or no mafia."
Her face lights up, and I can see the hope shining in her eyes. "Do you think it's possible, Dario? Could you ever escape the Mafia and live a normal life?"
For a brief second, I want to lie to her and tell her anything is possible. But, I don't want to give her false promises. As a young child, I would indulge my mother's fantasies.
I'd tell her that when I got older, I'd buy her a farm with chickens, and goats and cows and we'd make our own cheese but then, she died and with that, my promises died too.
A lump forms in my throat. "It's a nice dream," I say, with as much honesty as I can muster. "One I'd hope for every day, but it stops at just that. A dream."
"Right," she agrees, her expression growing serious. "You're right. There's reality, and then there's fantasy."
I feel crushed to see the disappointment in her eyes. I realize now, I never thought to ask her what kind of life she wants. I wonder if now is the right time, but for some reason, the air is clinging heavy around us, and I can sense we both just need some quiet to drown our thoughts in.
I pull her closer, wrapping my arm around her. We sit in silence for a while, enjoying the tranquility of the moment. It feels like the calm before the storm, and I can't help but worry about what lies ahead.
But for now, I focus on the warmth of Jasmine's body next to mine and the comforting scent of the vineyard surrounding us.
Time seems to slow as we wait, the sun dipping below the horizon and casting long shadows across the vineyard. I glance at my watch for what feels like the hundredth time, my nerves fraying as 8:00 pm comes and goes without any sign of our informant.
"Something's not right," I mutter, pacing back and forth in the small clearing. Jasmine watches me with concern, her hands wringing together as she shares my unease.
"Maybe they're just late," she suggests, though her tone lacks conviction.
"Or maybe it's a trap," I counter, unable to shake the feeling that we're being watched. "We should move, find another spot."
"Okay," Jasmine agrees, her voice barely above a whisper. We gather our things and set off deeper into the vineyard, every rustle of leaves and snapping twig setting my heart racing.
As we walk, I try to push aside my fears, focusing instead on the feel of Jasmine's hand in mine, her grip tight with worry. I'd do anything to protect her, to keep her safe from the dangers that seem to lurk around every corner.
"Wait," she says suddenly, stopping in her tracks. I follow her gaze to a seemingly innocuous patch of dirt at our feet.
"What is it?" I ask, crouching down for a closer look.
"Look," she breathes, pointing to the words carved crudely into the ground: Lascia ora, G.
Leave now, G.
My heart pounds in my chest as the meaning of the message sinks in. This isn't a warning from our enemies - it's a message from the Ghost, trying to protect us from something we don't know.
"Damn it," I curse under my breath, fear and frustration swirling inside me. "The Ghost is asking us to run. What about the informant, though?"
"Then we need to get out of here, now," Jasmine urges, her eyes wide with fear. "Maybe something happened to the informant? Or perhaps, The Ghost learned it's wise not to trust him?"
"Right," I agree, taking her hand once more as we quickly retrace our steps through the vineyard. The tranquility of the place now seems sinister, and dangerous.
The place we embraced now coils around us like a serpent, prepared to hunt. Every fiber of my being is on high alert, ready for action.
"Stay close to me, Jasmine," I whisper, our breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as we hurry toward safety.
