Chapter 4

When I agreed to sit down, Matteo visibly relaxed.

He even pulled me into his arms like he used to and brushed his lips against my hair. "That's more like it. Stop talking about leaving every five minutes. I don't like hearing it."

Lia's perfume still clung to his shirt collar.

My stomach turned.

The old hourglass I'd been using to keep track of the time stood in the middle of the dining room, its sand almost gone.

It was less than ten minutes to eight.

Matteo had his men release Sofia, but he didn't actually let her leave. The two enforcers still stood behind her. Her right hand hung limp, her wrist clearly dislocated, and there was blood on her neck and at the corner of her mouth.

I couldn't let myself look at her for long.

I was afraid one more glance would make me start a war with the Moretti family on the spot.

Matteo seemed to think I'd finally given in. He peeled a shrimp for me himself and put it on my plate. "Relax, Sofia's not going to die. After dinner, I'll have a doctor treat her."

The words were barely out of his mouth when the roar of rotor blades filled the sky over the estate.

The windows rattled in the downdraft.

Alarms went off outside.

Every Moretti man in the yard raised his gun at the night sky.

Lia went white and instinctively huddled against Matteo. "Is it the collectors? Did they find me here?"

I set down my silverware.

"No.

"They're here for me."

Matteo's eyes snapped to me.

Lia froze for a second, then shrieked, "For you? Elena, you didn't bring the Cassano family here to take me, did you?"

She turned to Matteo, her eyes welling up. "If they're here for her, then let her walk out on her own. Don't let those people onto the estate. Who knows what the Cassano family has planned for the Moretti family?"

Matteo said nothing.

One second.

Two.

Three.

I looked at him and suddenly thought back to the old church five years earlier.

That day, gunfire had raged through the church, from the upper floors all the way down to the basement. I could have escaped alone, but I'd gone back and carried him out.

And now, all he had to do was say, "Let her people in," and Sofia could get the help she needed.

But in the end, he said, "Fine."

He looked at me. "You go out alone. Sofia stays here. I'll have a doctor take care of her."

I laughed.

Matteo seemed to want to explain. "Elena, nobody out there would dare touch you. Lia's different. She doesn't have a family protecting her right now."

I stopped listening.

I walked over to Sofia and pulled one of her arms over my shoulders.

She sucked in a sharp breath of pain. "Forget about me. You go."

"Shut up."

I kept her upright. "We're going home together."

The Moretti men moved to stop us.

I looked at Matteo. "You told me to walk out. You never said I had to leave anyone with you."

His expression shifted.

But in the end, he didn't give the order to shoot.

Step by step, I helped Sofia out of the estate.

The rotors whipped up grass and dust. The Cassano helicopter had landed on the north lawn with its door wide open, and a doctor and four guards were already running toward us.

I didn't look back.

Behind me, Matteo stood on the steps, watching me without moving.

In that moment, something seemed to flash through his mind.

Five years earlier, I'd been the one covered in blood as I carried him out of the church, one step at a time.

Now I was leaving his estate with someone else he'd hurt so badly that she could barely stand.

He finally took two steps after me.

Lia grabbed his arm at once. "Matteo, don't. The Cassano men are all armed, and they're on edge right now."

He stopped.

By then, I'd already boarded the helicopter.

When the medics took Sofia from me, the pain made her pass out. I kept pressure on the gauze. The old bullet wound in my left shoulder had reopened from carrying her the whole way, and blood slowly seeped through my clothes.

The door slid shut.

The helicopter lifted off.

The Moretti estate got smaller and smaller.

After five years, I'd finally left that place for good.

...

After the estate went quiet again, Matteo stood there for a long time.

When he went back into the living room, he spotted a list on the table.

It was the inventory the moving company had left behind.

From clothes, sculptures, books, and jewelry to the old carving knife Elena had used in her studio for five years, every last thing was gone.

Only then did his expression change.