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"The birthmark on his cheek." I sniffle as I tap the screen. "Our captors made fun of him for it, but I thought it was pretty." I push my thumbs together to stanch my nerves. "He carried a sparrow stuffy around."
Benedetto nods. "Were you good friends with him?"
"Yes. I got to know him before I left because our captors moved him out of the A section of the basement. Sparrow, me, Ollie, and another boy… I can’t recall his name… were best friends."
Benedetto takes this in. "There was an A section of the basement?"
"Yes." I’m grateful I can help Daddy. "There were three sections. One for minors over thirteen, one for children they pushed into the black market adoption trade, and one for boys over eighteen. As soon as you turned eighteen, they moved you to the B section."
Benedetto presses his fingers to his forehead. He looks like he's thinking about something intensely.
"I must ask you something important, angel. I hate to do it and you can say no if you like."
I inch closer to Daddy. "What, Daddy?" I rub his hand. "You can ask me. I'll always listen to you."
There's pain in Benedetto's eyes I didn't notice before. His hazel irises aren't lit up like at the wedding. His face is crestfallen and I can tell whatever he needs to ask me is weighing on his mind.
"Can you help us on our mission?" Benedetto grits his teeth. "You know the layout, where the cages are, everything. We would've had no way of knowing there were three separate areas in the basement if you hadn't told me just now. That isn’t in the blueprints. I know you're having trouble with your memory, but perhaps stepping foot into the warehouse again will help."
"I only remembered Rooms A and C because I saw Sparrow’s picture." I sniffle as I stare at my feet. "There’s a hospital ward, as well. And a jail room where they keep bad boys."
"It's imperative we know the full layout." Benedetto sinks his fingers into my hand. "I don't want to ask you to return to the warehouse, but I must. I swear to God, boy, I'll be with you every step of the way. I won’t let those fucking men put their hands on you, and if they try, I'll blast a hole in their skulls."
I focus on my coloring book. "Will you protect me?"
"Yes." Benedetto crushes his lips to mine. "I'll keep you safe. No one will hurt you, and I'll murder any man who even looks at you the wrong way. I'm only asking this so I can save your friends. If we were just stopping the Diavolos’ drug trafficking operation, I wouldn’t need you to accompany me. But there are innocent boys down there who need your assistance."
"Like Sparrow," I repeat, trembling.
"Exactly." Benedetto runs his thumb across my hand. "I met with Nolan’s father last week. His name is Max Arnoult and he's missed his boy for years. He's searched for him everywhere and he’s out of options."
I stare into Daddy's eyes. "I'll do it. I want to help my friends, Daddy."
"I'm so glad to hear that." Benedetto kisses me hot and hard. "My brothers want you to be safe, too. They’re offering to teach you to shoot a gun this week."
25
UNNAMED BOY
Three days later
"I'm glad you could come."
I pop a piece of candy in my mouth and adjust the leather jacket Benedetto lent me. We’re standing in an open field in upstate New York, and I’m about to learn how to shoot. Benedetto drove all morning to get here and we definitely stopped at a few Dairy Queens along the way.
Hey, mint chocolate chip blizzards with extra Oreos never hurt nobody. And they’re a great substitute for anxiety medication, which I definitely don't have.
Benedetto's entire family arrived for my lessons. If I was nervous before, this ups the ante.
I force a smile on my face. "I'm glad you offered to help."
I take a look at the Ferrari family in all their glory. Benedetto's mother and father stand side-by-side, in deep discussion. Constantine and Gianluca are putting bullets into guns of various sizes for me to use. Nana and her husband are bickering, which Benedetto tells me isn't new.
Apparently, nearly fifty years together will do that to you. One day, Benedetto and I will show our love to each other through bickering alone. It's the miracle of marriage.
Benedetto's father walks to my side. "You'll be a natural, son." He pats my shoulder. "There's nothing to it at all. You just catch your target in the viewfinder, squeeze the trigger, and blow it to smithereens. It's simple."
I grit my teeth. Somehow, I doubt that. At the warehouse, our captors sometimes shot at tin cans for target practice. It was also to scare us, and they told us that if we ever got out of line, they’d blow our heads off.
