Chapter Fourteen.

Chapter Fourteen.

Francesca's Pov

I peeled out of the alley and put it in high gear, tires screaming on the busted road. I needed to reach the villa. Needed to find my uncle.

I was short on time.

The moment I stepped onto the main road, fear was stuck in my throat like a rock. My foot didn't falter on the accelerator, but my mind was spinning. Something was wrong. Something was off, I knew it. My phone was still clutched in my hand. I called the only person that I believed might be able to think clearly in a crisis such as that. Vito.

He answered on the second ring. "Francesca?"

"I think I'm being followed," I said, my voice strangling. I glanced in the rearview mirror. The black car was still there. Same distance. Same rhythm. Every turn I made, it mirrored it. 

No response on the other end, then a muffled curse. "How long has it been behind you?"

"Since I left the restaurant. It followed me out of old town. I attempted to shake it behind the alleyway behind the bakery, but it held back. It's staying just far enough behind so that it will not arouse suspicion."

"Alright, listen to me," Vito instructed, his voice icy now, business only. "You need to make it follow you. Take three random turns—left, right, right again. If it takes all three with you, it's no accident."

I obeyed instructions, careening through traffic, heart racing. My palms were cold as ice on the steering wheel. Left onto Elia Street. Right at the crumbling courthouse. Another right onto a half-paved residential street.

The car followed.

"Confirmed, I am being followed." I spat. "Vito, what in the hell do I do?"

He didn't waste any time. "Take a left up ahead. That'll take you past the underpass by the rail yards. It's narrow, with tight curves. You handle a car better than most goons tailing somebody in a sports car. Use it. You drive in, you ram into it hard and fast, then reverse back out through the gravel parking past the storage units. Shake him in the dust. But don't leave your lights on. Got it?"

"Got it."

I turned left, tires screeching, engine roaring as I floored it. The black car followed in its wake. I didn't have time to think. When I swooped into the underpass, the impact of my own car off the walls rebounded back. The tunnel shortened fast, metal rails clanging above as a train thundered through.

Behind me, I heard the other engine shrieking in increasing crescendo.

"Come on," I muttered, tightening the wheel.

The turns came faster now, and I pushed them hard. One wrong move and I'd crash into the barrier or worse. But the car stayed loose, each bend cutting my line cleaner. The follower struggled behind me. His car fishtailed once, twice.

And the turn into the gravel lot.

I killed my lights. Crashed into the parking area like a phantom. Dust blew in a great cloud behind me. I did not look back. I cut a hard swath around the rusty shipping crates, then powered back out onto the main street—reverse direction.

I coasted just long enough to get into traffic.

The black car was gone. I took one breath, then a second and spoke. 

"Vito," I said into the phone, "I lost him."

"Good. Go to the villa. Now."

I hung up.

………..

The gates to the villa were already open when I drove in, as if they'd been waiting on me. No hesitation. I quickly parked and sprinted up the cobblestone walk to my uncle's private villa.

The moment I stepped inside, I was frozen in place. He was there, but not exactly how I thought. Reclining on the couch, a hot espresso cup in one hand, a smug smile on his face.

And beside him, Matheo. My brother.

Matheo stood there wisely looking quilty. He said nothing, only gave me a guilty, sheepish glance.

My anger seethed.

"What is happening here?" I asked, breathing hard, fury barely in check. "I got a message that it was an emergency. That you weren't safe. That something wasn't right."

My uncle raised his cup and sipped slowly. "I guess that's the only way to get you to visit me."

My jaw dropped. "You scared the hell out of me. You made me think…"

"Don't pretend you care that much," he said to her, not unkindly, but firmly. "You've been ignoring my phone calls. Ignoring messages. You slink off to Vincenzo's house like some lone wolf and think that means you owe me one word less?”

I stepped into the room, fists clenched. "So you made up an emergency? 

He set the cup on the table. "Yes." I stared in amazement. "You don't get to be upset," he continued. "You don't get to pretend that I'm unreasonable. If you had answered one of my calls, we wouldn't be here."

I confronted Matheo, knives-sharp eyes.

"You," I snarled.

He held up his hands. "Sorry, sis. He made me do it. You know how your uncle can be."

"Damn right I do," I muttered.

"Sit," my uncle ordered. The voice was gentle, but commanding.

I didn't want to. But I did. He slumped forward. "I'm not going to let you kill yourself. That wasn't the deal. We had an agreement—get into Vincenzo's house, be my ears and eyes. Not set off playing chess of revenge in the dark."

I didn't reply.

"So tell me, Francesca," he insisted, voice pressing harder now, "what have you been doing in that house? What did you see? What did you hear?"

I hesitated but with one terrible glare, I began to talk.

I told him about Vincenzo's stepdaughter—the suspicious one with eyes too old for her face. The one who pulled me aside last week and said he killed her mother. She needs to take him down. 

"Is she willing?" he asked.

"Greater than pleased," I replied. "She's been waiting for someone like me. We now have an ally."

He leaned back cautiously, fingers together. "Fine. That's good. That's… progress. But you still disappeared. You're not beyond being coordinated."

I stood up. "I need to go now before I'm declared missing."

He furrowed his eyebrow. "And if I call again, will you answer?"

I didn't respond. He got up from the couch. "Because if you don't, next time I won't invent an incident. I'll drive straight to Vincenzo's gate and ring his doorbell. See how long your cover holds up then."

I turned white. He grinned hard. "You know he'll recognize me. One look. That's all it will take."

"There's no need to do that," I said quickly. "You've made your point. I'll answer. I'll check in."

"See that you do."

I nodded and headed out.

"Francesca," Matheo called out behind me, still wracked with guilt. "You okay?"

I was standing in the doorway.

"I'll be. Provided that no one else fakes their own funeral to come and have a coffee with me."

He chuckled low in his throat and with that, I was

off. Back to Vincenzo, back into the lion's den.

But now… I wasn't alone anymore and the game was going to change.