Chapter 7

Chapter 7.

Elsie.

The helicopter is louder than I expect.

The blades slice through the air in heavy, rhythmic thuds that vibrate through the ground beneath my feet. Wind whips around us, tugging at my veil, dragging loose strands of my hair across my face.

For a moment I just stand there.

My brain hasn’t quite caught up with the fact that this is really happening.

Salvatore’s hand rests lightly on the small of my back. It isn’t forceful, but it’s enough to guide me forward.

“Careful,” he says.

His voice is calm, almost conversational, like we’re stepping into a car after dinner instead of leaving a church where someone was just murdered.

I climb into the helicopter.

The interior smells like leather and metal and something faintly sharp, like fuel. The seats are dark and smooth, bolted to the floor in two rows.

One of the men shuts the door behind us with a solid metallic click.

Immediately the noise doubles and my ears ring.

The world outside the windows becomes a blur of movement and grey sky.

Salvatore sits across from me.

He watches me for a moment before reaching forward and placing a pair of headphones in my hands.

“Put these on.”

I hesitate, then slide them over my ears.

The noise dulls instantly. It’s not entirely gone but it’s softer and manageable.

He puts his own pair on and signals to the pilot with a brief nod.

The helicopter lifts.

The motion is sudden enough that my stomach drops.

The church shrinks beneath us.

Through the window I can see the small parking lot, the rows of cars, the thin line of road leading back toward town.

It all looks unreal from this height, like something small and distant that has nothing to do with me anymore.

My fingers curl against the seat.

Salvatore studies me across the narrow space although his expression is unreadable.

There’s dried blood on the cuff of his shirt.

I notice it suddenly and then my eyes move away quickly.

Outside the window, the town grows smaller. The familiar buildings blur together until they’re just shapes.

Then even those disappear and clouds swallow the ground beneath us.

For a long time neither of us speaks.

I’m aware of everything all at once; the hum of the engine, the vibration in the floor beneath my feet, the ring on my finger.

I look down at it.

The band is simple, thick gold with a small diamond set into it. It catches the dim light filtering through the helicopter windows.

Mrs. Vitale.

The words echo faintly in my mind.

I press my thumb against the metal as if I can somehow slide it off but it doesn’t move.

Of course it doesn’t.

Salvatore’s voice cuts through the silence in my headphones. “You should drink something.”

I look up. He’s holding out a small bottle of water tha I hadn’t even noticed him reaching for it.

My hands are shaking when I take it.

“Thank you,” I say automatically. My voice sounds strange even to me.

He watches me unscrew the cap and take sip carefully.

The water tastes metallic but it helps settle the dryness in my throat.

For a while we sit like that.

The helicopter cuts through the clouds, steadily and eventually, curiosity pushes past the numb fog in my head.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

Salvatore doesn’t answer immediately, he glances toward the window before looking back at me. “My island.”

The words settle between us. His island. I swallow.

“How far is it?”

“A few hours.” That’s all he says.

A few hours. A few hours until whatever comes next begins. The silence stretches again.

I try not to think about what happened in the church. I try not to picture Aldric’s body collapsing onto the white runner. I try not to remember the sound of the gunshots.

Instead I watch the sky and at some point the clouds thin, then the ocean appears beneath us.

Sunlight breaks through the cloud cover in scattered beams, turning patches of water silver.

It’s beautiful, in a distant, unreachable way. Salvatore leans slightly toward the window.

“We’re close.”

I follow his gaze, and at first I don’t see anything, then a shape appears on the horizon.

A thin strip of land rising out of the ocean and as we get closer the details sharpen.

Cliffs… dark rock cutting sharply into the water. Waves crashing against the base in white bursts of foam.

The helicopter circles once and my breath catches.

The island is bigger than I expected. Dense green trees cover most of it, thick and wild, but near the center, carved into the high ground overlooking the ocean, stands a house.

No, not a house… A mansion.

Stone walls rise above the cliffs, massive and pale against the greenery. Large windows reflect the sky like sheets of glass. Terraces stretch along the sides, lined with iron railings.

And surrounding everything—

Guards. Even from this height I can see them, dark figures posted along the walls and near the gates.

Vehicles are parked along the winding road leading up toward the house.

The helicopter descends slowly.

My stomach tightens. This place is a fortress.

The landing pad sits on a wide stone platform overlooking the sea. The moment the skids touch the ground, the helicopter shudders to a stop but the blades keep spinning.

Salvatore unbuckles his belt and stands then he opens the door.

Wind rushes inside immediately and my veil lifts around me like a white flag.

“Come,” he says. I step down carefully onto the stone.

The wind is colder here, it carries the smell of salt and ocean spray. For a moment I just stand there.

The sky stretches endlessly overhead and the sea crashes against the cliffs below.

My chest rises and falls quickly as the adrenaline from the past few hours finally begins to fade.

Salvatore steps down beside me. His men move around us, unloading bags from the helicopter, but I barely notice them.

Because I look down, at my dress.

The ivory silk is no longer ivory. Dark red stains spread across the front where Aldric’s blood splattered when he fell.

I hadn’t really seen it before. Inside the church everything was chaos, and noise and movement and shock.

But here in the open daylight, the blood is impossible to ignore.

It’s dried and stiff against the fabric, crusted along the folds of the skirt and the metallic smell hits me suddenly.

My stomach lurches violently.

I stagger back a step, then another as my hand flies to my mouth.

“No—”

The word barely leaves my lips before I turn away. I barely make it a few steps before the nausea overwhelms me.

I bend over sharply and vomit onto the stone.

My whole body shakes with it. The sound echoes embarrassingly loud against the open air.

I cough, trying to breathe, but my stomach twists again and another wave comes.

A hand gathers my hair gently away from my face. I realize dimly that it’s Salvatore.

He doesn’t say anything, all he does is hold my hair while I retch again. When it finally stops, my throat burns and my eyes sting with tears.

Someone presses a bottle of water into my hand. I rinse my mouth shakily.

Salvatore crouches beside me. “You’re in shock,” he says quietly. His voice is calm and matter-of-fact-ly, like this is a problem with a clear obvious solution.

“Stand slowly.”

I do. My legs feel weak but they hold.

He studies my face for a moment, then he turns slightly toward the waiting staff near the house.

“Prepare a bath,” he says.

Several people move immediately. One of the women steps forward, bowing her head slightly.

“Of course, sir.” Her eyes then shift to me. “Welcome home, Mrs. Vitale.”

The words hit harder than I expect. Mrs. Vitale.

My fingers tighten around the empty water bottle. Salvatore places a steady hand at my back again.

“Let’s get you inside.”

I look once more at the ocean stretching endlessly beyond the cliffs. Then at the massive house rising behind us. And finally at the ring on my finger.

He leads me towards the entrance and I follow because it’s finally dawning on me that I have absolutely no choice in this.