Page 59 of Bianchi

They’re going to kill Romeo.

And it’ll be all my fault. I smack a hand over my mouth, smothering the sob ripped from my lips. If I’d just shown him the note, none of this would be happening. Squeezing my eyes shut, I picture Romeo at breakfast this morning and the smile I put on his face before lying to him. Was that our last kiss? I don’t think I could bear to never see him again, to feel his presence near me or have a part of him touching me. Sliding my fingers into my hair, I massage my scalp to ease the throbbing from hitting my head.

I feel so helpless.

There’s no getting through this because I can’t take another heartache. A single tear falls from the corner of my eye and runs down into my hairline. I don’t bother to catch it. Instead, I turn onto my side and wrap my arms around my waist in a vain attempt to hold myself together. I can’t fall apart now, not when he needs me to stay strong and fix this mess.

Think, Aurora.

What else did they say?

Something about an Italian. It’s possible that it’s Angelo, but even with his grumpy demeanor, I don’t think it is. Besides, when they realize I’ve gone, he’ll be in so much trouble.

If he hasn’t run away because he’s involved.

Dismissing the thought, I wrack my brain. Could there be someone else from Massimo’s house who is helping these guys? I don’t know any men aside from Massimo, Romeo, Daniele and Leonardo. Can I rule them out?

What about… No, it can’t be. Romeo said the guy from the library—Aldo, I think it was—has worked for Massimo’s family for years.

This is pointless.

I don’t know anything about the people in that house, not really. What I need is a plan; a way to warn Romeo of what they intend to do, and at the very least, a way to get out of here, preferably alive. I sit up, leaning back against the wall and resting my head until the room stops spinning. The swell of nausea is still there but is manageable.

It feels like a lifetime ago that I was working as an emergency dispatcher, but those years of answering calls have to be of some use now. What would I tell someone to do if they called 911? Stay hidden. We’re a bit past that. Be compliant and take in as much of your surroundings as possible. Great advice when you have the emergency services on the other end of the phone and know that help is on its way.

I could try and fight them.

And they’d probably snap my neck quicker than I could land a punch. In any case, there are two of them and only one of me. Or at least two that I know about.

My gaze jumps around the room, desperately seeking anything I can turn into a weapon. There’s no way I can break a piece of the bed off. I could use the sheet to suffocate one of them. But that’s reliant on there only being one of them and the likelihood is they’ll overpower me anyway. Maybe I can tie the sheet to the bucket. It would give me the distance to at least get a couple of blows in.

Who am I kidding?

In every scenario I can think of, I end up dead. Which is what I’ve been begging for Romeo to do all this time.

Except now, that wish to die couldn’t be further from the truth.

Chapter 37

Romeo

Angelo shifts in the seat in front of Massimo’s desk. It’s the only sign of any effect my cold, unwavering stare is having on him. The rage I’d tempered earlier is bubbling beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed. Angelo locks eyes with me and sets his jaw as animosity fills the room, hanging heavily in the air.

Massimo leans on the front of his desk, his ankles crossed and his arms folded across his chest. As if he’s asking a toddler how they hurt themselves, he asks, “What happened?”

Shifting his focus to Massimo, Angelo scrubs a hand over the back of his neck, looking almost guilty. He should feel shame. In fact, he should sacrifice himself for what he’s let happen. “I honestly don’t know. One minute she’s asking for the bathroom, then ten minutes passed and she hadn’t come back, so I went looking for her. There wasn’t any physical sign of her having left or a struggle.”

Massimo meets my gaze over his shoulder before exhaling heavily and turning back to Angelo. It’s taking everything inside of me not to drag him down to the basement and make him pay for having lost her, but I promised Massimo we would hear him out. Once he’s done explaining though, all bets are off and I can take my time, ripping him limb from limb.

I move until I’m standing behind Angelo. He straightens in his chair, rolling his neck and clearing his throat, his fear palpable.

Before he can react, I hook an arm around his throat, grabbing my wrist with my other hand and tightening my hold. His feet kick and as I pull back, he lifts from the chair. His fingers grip my arm and although he could reach my face, he doesn’t retaliate. Why would he? He knows better than to try.

“Rome,” Massimo calls, but I ignore him.

There’s nothing he can do to stop me. If Angelo valued his life, he should have protected what belonged to me.

So should I.

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