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It's not what love stories are made of but it's definitely a start.
I pace from side to side trying to think of my options and as hard as it is for me to admit it the best chance I have for me and my child's survival is with Vitto. He got us into this mess I'm just going to have to trust that he's going to get us right back out of it.
One hour turns into two, two into three and before I know it, I'm nearly frantic with panic.
My breath catches in my throat as I hear footsteps outside crunching in the damp branches right outside. Quickly, I gather up Chance and slide him into the carrier on my chest. Once I know he's secure I grab for the shotgun and aim it in the direction of the door.
My heart beats a million miles a minute but my hands are steady. I may only have one chance at this and I don't want to miss. If this is another asshole come to try and take my life I'm going to make damn sure that I make it as hard as possible.
"Stella, don't shoot me." Vitto deep voice echos through the wood and a sense of relief washes over me.
"Oh thank goodness." I drop the gun forward and rush over to the door. I swing it open and see Vitto, cold, dirty and out of breath but in one piece. "I didn't think you'd be able to get back here." I pulled him inside and he dropped down in the corner and huddled against himself for warmth.
"I told you that I'd be back. I'm true to my word." He replies and lift my eyebrow at the statement.
"That's not always true. Last I heard you gave your word to kill me but I'm still alive."
He clenched his jaw and looked back down to the ground. Maybe that wasn't the best thing to say to someone who could basically have your life in their hands. I don't want him to rethink his decision to let me live.
"Did you find somewhere for us to hide out?" I ask him standing away.
"Even better, I found us a ride." He smirks up at me and for the first time, a small twinge of hope settles in my chest. We're going to make it out of here alive.
* * *
"I'm assuming you didn't get this truck from the car rental place?" I look around the large black SUV before I glance back at Vitto.
"No, this must have belonged to the brothers that I went up against the other night. It's not like they're going to be using it." He shrugged. "How’s Chance? Is he okay?"
"He needs to be changed but I'm fresh out of diapers. We're going to need to make a stop soon, also we're going to need to get some money from some place. I don't have anything else with me." I tell him and he nods his head.
"Don't worry about it. I'll get what he needs." His voice is calm and he reaches over to caress the back of his head once before he drops his hands back on the steering wheel.
I smile down at my son who is sleeping soundly on my chest. "You know for someone who is supposed to be a ruthless killer you sure are good with him."
"I'm just... I don't know. I want him to know something different than what I grew up knowing. I don't want him to hate me." Vitto admits.
"Hate you? Surely, you don't hate your father." I scoffed at the thought.
"I respect him only because he's a boss, but if he didn't have my blood running through his veins I'd have shot him in the head a long time ago. My father doesn't see family as anything more than a way to solidify his hold on everyone else. The more children he's go the more minions he's got to do his dirty work. I've tried my hardest for as long as I could to go my own way but it's impossible to get away from his influence. I spend more time taking out his enemies than I do taking on new contracts.
I swallow the frog in my throat as I hear him talk about his profession as if he were telling me he's an accountant. "Have you ever thought about not killing people? Maybe get a regular job?"
Vitto chuckles and shakes his head, "A regular job, like in a cubicle?"
"Yeah, what's so wrong with that?" I ask slightly offended. For most people that small cubicle is as close to the American dream as they'll ever get.
"There isn't anything wrong with that but if you knew how many of my contracts came from people that worked in cubicles you'd be surprised. No matter what walk of life a person is in there are always those who need people like me to do their dirty work. I'm a contract killer because I'm good at it. Before you, I was absolutely perfect." Vitto explains and I sit back hard in my seat with a huff.
I don't know If I'll ever be able to come to grips with that. I'd only shot one person and that was in self-defense, but still it haunted me.
"You and me are completely different people," I mutter more to myself than to him.
"If you were anything like me you'd already be dead. In my world, all I come across are people who are like me in one way or another. You are the complete opposite, I never thought there were actually people who lived like you. It's intriguing."
Talk about a shock to my system. If I'm just a novelty for Vitto, what happens when he's no longer curious about me? What happens when he no longer cares about how I live my life? What happens when he figures out I'm more trouble to him alive than I am dead?
* * *
