Page 75 of The Don's Deadly Assassin

I groan and keep walking, in whichever direction I find. I reach a dead-end and turn back, taking a right I hadn’t earlier.

And then, I hear it.

"I know you're here, little mouse," an angry shout piercing the night, Veronika’s voice bouncing off the walls. "Why don't you come out and play?"

There’s no response.

My heart vibrates, a jackhammer in action, when I realize there’s only one person she could be speaking to with such a threat: Camela.

There’s no one else here.

My brain scrambles, one of my enemies, for Camela has none, must have found us.

|The guide – she must have tracked us down. Perhaps sent by the people behind the Professor’s death. Harming Camela is their way of getting to me. I’ve put her in danger. My sweet, innocent Camela. Leaving her unguarded was a catastrophic mistake.

My hart rams into my ribs. I rush forward, the need to protect Camela propelling me. I follow the threatening voice, then freeze. There is a narrow opening in the ancient forum ruins. I creep towards it, then halt in my tracks.

Two silhouettes are dancing in a deadly waltz at the edge of a covered pit. Camela and Veronika.

I’m ready to scream, to warn them, when I notice the guide swipe at Camela’s throat with something sharp. I step forward, prepared to sprint towards them as Camela avoids the attack.

And then, I freeze when the guide says her next words. "You should know by now, my pet. Even the Huntress can’t remain on top forever.."

Huntress?

"Why don't you come take my title then?" Camela snaps back.

They know each other. This has nothing to do with me, and right now, the woman I love is a stranger to me, speaking strange things, making strange moves.

And I’m reduced to a spectator. My jaw, neck, and chest feel like they’re being compressed into a tight space. I’ve inadvertently walked into a secret Camela’s clearly kept from me, and I don’t know what I’m defending her against exactly.

Just then, the guide falls over to the makeshift roof. It cracks under her weight and she drops.

Camela reaches out, grabbing the woman’s hand who spits out: “I’ll kill you.”

Camela holds on. Relief spreads through me. Camela’s innocent. She’d never kill someone on purpose. I know this now. I take a few steps forward, prepared to help Camela bring the woman back to the surface, when I hear the cold, harrowing words escape the warm lips I often think about: "Remember this, Temptress. You should never have come for mine."

And then, she lets go…There’s a piercing scream followed by a sickening crunch from below.

I gasp, and shout without thinking. “Camela! What have you done?” My knees tremble under me. What is she involved in?

Camela turns to me, ashen-faced. “V…Vincenzo,” she whispers, all the natural pink of her face now grey. “I…I didn’t know you were here.”

I walk up to her, my breath coming out in jagged wisps. I want to rush over, see if she’s alright, but I wonder if I should be afraid. I stop a few feet away from her and her eyes flicker over mine, before trailing down my body, and then proceeding to map the distance between us.

With her eyes still on the ground, she clutches her hands together. “I swear, Vincenzo. I had no other choice.” Her voice is cracked, almost whimpering.

“Tell me what happened?” I ask, needing answers.

She looks up, her face contorted with pain. “Not here, Vincenzo. Please,” she begs, her hands joined together and almost raised. “I’ll tell you everything later.”

In that instant, I know she’s desperate. Her eyes dart around us, from one corner of the place to another and I think back to my life in the mafia. How many secrets have I kept? To protect those around me?

Camela doesn’t wish to harm me. I can tell she’s afraid of what I saw, of how I think of her.

In the night, the guide’s painful moans fill the air from the pit, like a morbid song. Camela turns her back to me and stands motionless at the edge of the pit, staring down into the void where the guide’s probably mangled, but living body lays.

I approach Camela on shaky legs, knowing her task isn’t yet done. No matter what I just witnessed, I’ve witnessed similar things hundreds of times in the past; some, at my own hands, others at the hands of loved ones.

---