Angelo's
POV
Back
to the present…
These
thoughts wouldn't stop.
They
started the night I cornered her and her father. My father's voice had been
echoing through my head since then. It sounded in my mind when I picked up the
sword. It rang louder when I used it. Even now, that she was trembling in front
of me, her eyes wide with fear, I heard his voice, charging me on.
Yes
of course, I knew her name. I had picked her ID from their car, "Don't say
another word Aurora. Don't speak unless I ask you to. Am I clear?"
She
nodded briskly.
I
turned around and walked away, I knew she was trailing behind me.
As
she sat in my car, trembling, the thoughts wouldn't stop. I could still hear
his voice in the back of my skull:
'I
want you to find him, the man who did this, and I want you to destroy
everything and everyone he cares about…'
I
didn't speak. I didn't look at her. I just signaled the driver, the car drove
off.
The
drive was silent, leaving me alone with my thoughts, thankfully but my
happiness was short lived.
I
had told her not to speak to me but she did anyway.
"Please…"
Her voice cracked. "Please don't kill me."
I
didn't look at her, I continued staring straight ahead. Only moments ago, she
had asked that I kill her with a gun, so what was it exactly? To kill or not to
kill?
"Where
are you taking me?" she asked, in a soft voice, her hands twisting in her lap
like she was trying to wring her own nerves out of her fingers.
I
should've snapped at her. I should've shut her up. I should be stern, establish ground rules, she was not my guest,
she was my enemy but my eyes kept darting to her, when she wasn't looking.
The
way she kept curling her fingers. The way her nails pressed into her skin. The
way she sniffled and wiped under her eye with the back of her hand. When she
tucked her hair behind her ear.
I
hated that I could smell her perfume. It was soft, floral. I hated that I
noticed. I hated her.
No.
I
hated her father.
And
I hated her for making it harder to keep hating her.
She
shifted in her seat again, her leg bouncing slightly. "You don't have to take
me anywhere, I promise I'll behave, I'll act right, I swear, please don't,
don't send me off to those men…"
I
realized she was talking about Don Savio's trafficking ring, father had
threatened her with that one. Of course I wasn't sending her there, her
punishment was mine to give, but she didn't need to know that, yet.
Her
voice cracked again, and this time I clenched the edge of the door hard. My jaw
was locked so tight, I could feel the veins in my neck straining..
I
wanted to stay angry.
I
wanted to stay cold.
But
she was sitting next to me crying, her voice trembling, she buried her face
into her hands, her whole frame racked hard with her sobs. She wasn't making
this easy.
When
we pulled into the parking lot of the café, she looked around, confused. It was
an outdoor café, the place was deserted.
I
got out and opened her door. She stepped out slowly, and peered around with
fear in her eyes. I didn't wait, I walked up to one of the seats overlooking
the streets.
She
followed behind me, the chairs had an umbrella shade to shield from the sun. She
looked around, playing with her fingers nervously, "What… what are we doing
here?" she asked, in a barely audible voice.
I
looked at her, slow. "What do you think?"
I
watched as her eyes scanned the space, the little crease in her forehead like
she was thinking hard.
And
then it hit her.
Her
eyes widened in horror.
"Oh
my God. Are we on a—on a date?" she whispered, disgust and confusion thick in
her voice.
I
didn't answer.
If
things were different…
If
the world was sane…
I would
have actually wanted to know her name before all this. I would have asked her
for her number that night, taken her out properly, just her and me. I would
have—
Stop
it, Angelo. Stop this fucking stupidity.
Dante's
dead. This isn't some tragic love story. Your brother is dead.
I
leaned back in my seat and tilted my head toward the far corner of the street, "You
see that man? Reading the newspaper?"
She
followed my gaze.
"He's
mine."
She
stiffened.
I
nodded toward the window. "Look across the street. That tall building, third
floor. Behind the curtains."
She
squinted. I saw the moment she noticed him.
"There's
a man with a sniper rifle," I said. "He doesn't miss."
Her
breathing quickened. I kept going.
"Another
one's at the bar, drinking his coffee. One by the counter. One more by the
bathroom door." I pointed at the café building behind us.
Her
hands gripped the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping her from
dropping to the ground..
"All
I have to do is wave my hand," I said softly, "and they'll open fire. No
hesitation. No remorse. No explanations given."
She
was panicking now. Her mouth parted. Her throat moved like she wanted to
scream, but didn't dare.
She
looked at me, desperate. "What do you want from me?" Her lips quivered.
I
leaned forward. "I want you to act normal., I want you to smile. I want you to
look them in the eye and say you came here with me. That you're happy. That
we're… in love."
Her
lips parted in disbelief.
"Lie,"
I said. "Sell it. I don't care what you say, just make it convincing. Laugh.
Touch my arm. Tell them we're happy together and you want to live with me for
the rest of your life. Or they die."
Tears
welled up in her eyes.
She
whispered, "Why… why are you doing this?"
I
didn't answer.
Instead,
I stood up and nodded toward the entrance.
"Your
boyfriend," I said quietly. "Luca."
She
froze.
"And
your best friend," I added, voice lower now. "Isabella."
She
turned slowly.
And
when she saw them walking toward us…
Her
eyes widened in pure horror.