Page 96 of The Don's Deadly Assassin

Chapter 35

Camela

Raindrops patter against the window by now, but I barely notice as Vincenzo's question echoes in my mind, "Why would Matthiera ever help you?"

He had trained alongside me under the watchful eye of the Handler, and his skills as an assassin were unmatched. But he was known as "The Snake" for a reason – cunning and ruthless, shedding motives as easily as skins. But, with me, he was always loyal.

"Camela, are you alright?" Vincenzo asks, his gentle voice edged with concern.

I nod, biting my lip, trying to find the most convincing words. But, I can think of nothing except the truth. “We were like brother and sister once,” I whisper, looking up to meet Vincenzo’s cynical gaze. There’s a small furrow in that perfect forehead, and I know I’m going to need to do a lot more convincing than that.

I’m proven right when Vincenzo mutters, point-blank, “Once.”

"Vincenzo," I say, hope lacing my words, "I think I know how we can reach him. I need to show Matthiera that there is good in the world, and that even someone like me can change. We were trained together, taught to never believe in love, or any emotion for that matter. We were cold machines, Matthiera and I. The Handler called him the Snake for his cold blood, and me the Huntress because I was the apex predator in his eyes. If the snake can see the huntress no longer wishes to go for the kill, he might be able to see his own true nature. I can convince him to help us, once he sees that he never was the Snake he was made out to be."

“Or maybe you’re wrong,” Vincenzo tells me. “Maybe contacting him would set a trap we can’t escape from, Camela. He could kill us, in the pretext of aiding us.”

For some reason, a surge of loyalty and possessiveness overcomes me, all of it pleading Matthiera’s case. His childlike face plays on my mind, all the memories rushing back.

I hold back a tear as I try to explain. “When we were children, small and innocent, the Handler burnt his feet once for trying to run away across the forest to play with some gypsy children camping out with their families. Matthiera was just six, couldn’t walk. I’d bathe him in bed, help him eat, lather herbs and aloe vera on his feet. When I was punished with starvation for helping him heal, Matthiera would crawl to me after the Handler fell asleep, his feet still not well, and give me half his meal, which he’d have hidden away in his pockets when the Handler wasn’t watching. Please, Vincenzo, he was an innocent… like I was. He’s a victim, like I am.”

By now, the tears stream down my face. “So, so innocent,” I choke, triggered by haunting realities I haven’t even yet shared with Vincenzo. Truths I might never share, for they’re too painful to even pass over my lips. I look up, anger overcoming me, and shout - “We were children!”

Vincenzo jumps out of his seat and rushes over to me in one stride, sitting on the floor, his hands taking mine as he looks up into my eyes. He reaches over, wipes away the tears and whispers, “You were children,” telling me I’m right. Three simple words, reminding me that Matthiera and I were never at fault.

I know the risks involved, but the flicker of hope that Matthiera could be swayed by the truth about what I’ve learned about love and how it’s as tangible as life itself, pushes me forward. "Trust me," I say softly, my voice a low murmur.

"Matthiera and I are bound by more than just the Handler's manipulations. I can't explain it, but I feel it in my bones that this is our chance to break free from the chains he placed on us. You saved me, Vincenzo. And if I can show Matthiera just how much I’ve changed, the world I’ve seen, the love I’ve felt, I believe I could gift him a free future too. A good future, like the life I have laid out before me, all because of you."

Vincenzo studies my face, his eyes searching for any hint of doubt. When he finds none, he offers a small, encouraging smile. "Alright, Camela. I don’t know him the way you do. If you believe he could be redeemed, and save us, I need to trust you on this.”

Moonlight spills across the room, casting a soft glow on Vincenzo's face as he shows me the faith he has in me. I can see the hope and trust in his eyes, and it fuels my determination to make a difference, not just for us but for Matthiera as well.

“Thank you,” I whisper, gratefulness flooding my heart. He nods and rises, tilting his head to mine and placing his hands on my cheeks, pulling me closer to him. I want to melt into him for eternity as our lips come together in a soft, beckoning kiss urging me to forget all this and hide away with Vincenzo, away from the world.

But I don’t let my thoughts wander. There’s work to be done, and I pull away, giving his hands a small squeeze. He understands and smiles, pulling away from me, now sitting back on his haunches, waiting for me to take the next step.

"Alright," I say, taking a deep breath. "I'm going to contact Matthiera. If he sees how much I've changed, maybe he'll believe there's a chance for him, too. He could help us if he can see what I need him to."

“Here goes nothing,” Vincenzo nods. “There’s no turning back after we do this.”

"Trust me, I know," I assure him. "But if there's even the smallest shred of goodness left in him, it's worth trying to salvage it."

Vincenzo nods, giving me a reassuring smile that sends warmth spreading through my chest. "You're braver than anyone I know, Camela. If anyone can do this, it's you."

"Thank you," I murmur, touched by his unwavering support. Feeling new hope brimming through me for a life without fear, I pull out my encrypted phone from a hidden compartment in my bag and power it on.

I keep it off, mostly because I want to cut off the one connection the Handler has to me. My fingers dance over the screen as I compose a message to Matthiera:

‘Snake. It’s Huntress. We need to talk. Meet me at our old meeting grounds by the docks tomorrow at seven pm sharp. Alone. Tell NO ONE.’

As I hit send, my pulse races with anticipation and fear – both for what might happen if Matthiera refuses our offer and for what it would mean if he accepts. After all, convincing him to join our cause is only the first step in dismantling the twisted organization that molded our lives.

The setting sun casts a warm glow over the docks, its orange and pink hues painting the sky as I lead Vincenzo to the docks, where Matthiera and I would also meet when on joint missions. The scent of salty sea air fills my nostrils, a nostalgic reminder of the countless hours we spent here, huddled together, discussing strategies.

"Are you ready for this?" Vincenzo asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I reply, my heart pounding in my chest. My mind races with thoughts of what could go wrong, but I steel myself, knowing that facing Matthiera is the only chance we have to bring down the organization that used us and so many others. He’s also our one shot at lasting freedom.

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