Chapter Four

By the time I reached home, something felt off. I turned my key in the lock, but it opened with just one click. 

Did I forget to lock up properly? I stepped in, shrugging my shoulders and dismissing it as an error from my morning rush.

The air in my flat was still. The sweet, comforting scent of coffee and old books hung in the air, embracing me warmly.

Further away, the dull hum of the streetlights filtered through the curtains, casting shifting shadows on the walls, stretching the furniture into strange, misshapen forms.

I exhaled slowly, attempting to roll my shoulders to banish the lingering tension. It did not work.

Something felt off!

The moment I turned on the light, I gasped.

Lounging on my couch, his black suit unwrinkled, legs crossed in casual grace, was my uncle.

His presence dominated the room without making a single gesture, an unspoken authority of command draped in subdued menace.

His sharp, intelligent eyes drilled into mine, their intensity heavy with unspoken meaning. His face held no anger, no particular show of displeasure, just a patience more disturbing than any yelling.

Ice-cold fear crept into my belly, slow and insidious.

I swallowed the sharp breath that had caught in my throat, forcing my muscles to relax despite the tension clawing at my spine. My uncle sat there, still as stone, his piercing gaze locked onto mine like a predator sizing up its prey.

I summoned some courage. Straightening my shoulders, taking a step forward, I forced a calm, neutral expression onto my face.

“Uncle,” I greeted, my voice smooth despite the undercurrent of unease. “What brings you here?”

He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he studied me with a forbearing patience that was more intimidating than outright hostility.

Then, low and laced with authority, he spoke, "Francesca Andrea Marino” his voice thundered. “What have you done this time?"

The way he spoke my full name sent a shiver down my spine. He only did that when I was in serious trouble. I tilted my head to one side, feigning innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

His eyes didn't flicker. "Don't play games with me, Francesca. I know you're the one who's been committing the murders that have been making the headlines."

I maintained my face impassive, though a slow, half-amused smile was trying to pull at my mouth. "That's a pretty serious accusation, Uncle. And why do you sound so certain?"

His jaw clenched. "Because I know what you can do.” Before I could get a chance to reply, he continued. “I met with some of the leaders of other mafia clans today. The men you killed had worked for them at different times and now they are seeking out whoever it was, not out of sympathy for the dead, but because they wish to know if the killer is a danger to them. 

You're putting yourself in danger, Francesca."

I folded my arms, holding his gaze. "I can handle myself."

His face dropped into shadows. "This isn’t just about you," he snapped, his voice lowering to something more raw, more personal. "All you’ve done since your parents died is chase ghosts, dragging yourself deeper into a war that will never end. And now, you’re in more danger than ever."

He exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face before looking at me again, his voice quieter but no less intense. "Don't be irresponsible, kid. All I've ever attempted to do is look after you and your brother. If anything happens to either or both of you, I'd never be able to live with myself."

Guilty pangs wracked my chest for an instant before I pushed them away. "Don't worry yourself about me," I said, sitting beside him with a sullen look on my face. "I know what I'm doing."

His silence hung between us, weighed down with unspoken horrors. And then, finally, I added, "And I know who killed my parents."

His head snapped up. His eyes, ever so controlled, blazed with something un-readable. I thought I saw something in his eyes but it disappeared before I could think too much of it. "What?"

I met his gaze, my voice unwavering. "I tortured those men and before I killed them, they gave me a name."

I leaned in a fraction, letting the force of my words sink in between us and when he had gotten himself together, I dropped the bomb.

"Vincenzo Lombardi."

My uncle frowned, the name dancing in his head like a ghost from the past.

"Vincenzo…" He shook his head tightly. "The name rings a bell, but I don't know where I've seen him before."

I glared at him. "He's powerful, well-connected, and deadly. And now, fate brought him to my door step. I report directly to him."

His eyes grew cold, frightened even. "What are you saying?"

I exhaled. Standing up, I walked around the couch and sat down in the chair opposite him. "The Hospital referred me to him today," I explained. "His man was injured and he wanted the best. And now, I've been appointed his personal surgeon."

My uncle's expression grew stern. "Francesca, listen to me, this is a mistake. Working that close to him? It's not safe. Please, you have to leave this job."

I nodded my head. "No."

His lips were set in a hard line. "You're playing with fire."

"Then let me burn," I shot back, my voice steady. "I'm not walking away from this, Uncle. You know who he is now. I have searched for answers all my life, now that I finally have it, I will not turn away."

"Then at least let me take care of it. You've done enough locating him, do not put yourself in the limelight."

My eyes scrunched up as I thought about what he had just said. "I will not leave this job.” Then an Idea hit me and I smiled. “Let me be your inside eyes. I'll supply you with the information I can obtain but I cannot simply relinquish my post."

Silence reigned between us once more. He stared at me, seeking to spot a weak link in my resolve. But I did not yield.

Finally, he sighed and massaged his temple. "Fine," he growled. "But you need to be careful, Francesca. And you need to promise me something."

I arched my brow. "What?"

"You will never hurt Vincenzo or make him think you're there on business. If he even gets a whiff of your real motives, you're dead meat."

I glared at him. "I promise."

But even as I said it, in the recesses of my mind, I knew some promises were to be broken.