Page 35 of The Don's Deadly Assassin

I immediately get Mario on the phone. “Boss?”

“Check the security cameras out front. A left just now, medium build, plain suit. See what car he gets into.” I bark my orders before ending the call.

Something tells me this stranger is somehow connected to Camela’s unusual behavior – and I’m determined to find out what their connection is.

Chapter 12

Camela

The roar of the engine drowns out the chaos in my head as I speed down the dark, winding roads. I’m hyper alert from fear. This evening's events have me questioning everything about who I am, but one thing is certain – I can’t kill Vincenzo Consolini.

Pulling into the driveway of my safe house, I waste no time in killing the engine and sprinting inside. I slam the door shut behind me, and I’m greeted by the familiar scent of gun oil and leather.

I begin to tear open drawers and cabinets in a frenzy. I’ve lost control. There is only one thing I can control now.

Run.

I’m no longer the person for this job.

I fill my two getaway bags with clothes, weapons, fake passports, cash – anything that will help me prepare for what comes next.

The only problem: I don’t know what that is. My mind is running in circles and I can’t think straight. It’s clear I can’t kill Vincenzo, and that I’m a hindrance to the mission. The Handler won’t understand, so my only option is to run.

But what then?

As I rifle through my belongings for a final check, I come across the wretched arrow, glowing with otherworldly power. I stop, staring at it, examining it. I wish I’d never taken this souvenir which has become a thing of nightmares.

And yet, I can’t abandon it. It’s the one thing that connects me to Vincenzo.

I move faster, zipping up the bag and slinging it over my shoulder. Time is running out.

The shrill tone of my phone pierces the silence, making me flinch. My heart hammers in my chest as I recognize the number…the Handler.

I could just let the call go to voicemail, I’m tempted for a moment. But it would make him suspicious and I need to buy more time to make a clear getaway.

For now, I need to pretend, get my mind in the game.

"Cameeelaaa," my name comes out as a chilling serenade. He’s trying to scare me, to remind me he can toy with me. "Why is Vincenzo still alive?"

I keep each word toneless, keeping enough space between words to sound confident. "I thought I saw someone approaching. I didn't want to risk getting caught."

“You’ve never lied to me before. Why are you lying to me now," he snaps with icy disapproval. "Perhaps it is because you are in possession of what I have been looking for?"

He knows that I have the arrow.

“I trained you, Camela. I know you: cold, calculating and never thinking twice when it comes to making a kill. I knew something was off when you came in with all your excuses, so I had you followed. The fact that you failed a second time proves my suspicions. You are in possession of the arrow and pricked yourself with it. Now you are in love with Vincenzo.”

My emotions get the better of me. Throwing caution to the wind I shout into the phone: “If you lay even one finger on Vincenzo, I will kill you.”

He is not the least bit rattled by my threat. “You have one hour to bring me the arrow and I just might consider leaving your precious Vincenzo alive.”

The line goes dead, leaving me with a sense of dread that coils like a snake around my throat.

"Damn it," I whisper, my hand gripping the edge of the table to stop myself from stumbling.

I am overwhelmed by grief. If Vincenzo dies, I’ll forget what it means to live. To know there was a man like him on this earth once, a man for me, who no longer exists would be a living death.

Memories rush back. The way his kind eyes crinkle when he laughs, how he smells like home should I ever have one, how gently he guides me down the pathway of his gardens, how soft his hand feels against mine.

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