Page 59 of Depths of Hunger

My focus shifts to Luigi, sensing something off. There’s a jitteriness to him, a nervous energy that has my instincts on high alert. Luca catches my eye, raising an eyebrow—he feels it too. Luigi’s eyes dart around, refusing to meet mine, and I see it there: fear mixed with guilt. My stomach knots as dread sinks in. He’s done something. Something that could cost us everything.

Chapter

Twenty-Five

“For fuck’s sake!” I yell, slamming my hand against the steering wheel as a car suddenly slows down and turns right in front of me. My heart races as I glance at the clock on the dashboard, trying to figure out how much of a head start they had. Renzo must be at the Duomo by now, already deep in the meeting because his phone is off. All their phones are off. Except for Luigi. His phone has to be on—he wouldn’t risk missing a call from Pippa in case something happens to Louisa.

I fumble with my phone, trying to find Luigi’s number. It would be so much easier if I wasn’t driving, but Ralf is out cold in the back seat, the pills I slipped him finally taking full effect. I’d managed to get some of the café’s wait staff to help move him after he passed out, and now he’s snoring softly, blissfully unaware of the chaos unraveling around us.

I finally pull up Luigi’s contact. My fingers shake as I press the call button, praying he’ll pick up and prove me wrong—prove he’s not doing what I think he’s doing. As I hold the phone to my ear, I swerve around another car turning too slowly, fishtailing slightly on the wet road. I’m about thirty minutes out, maybe less if I keep pushing thespeed. “Come on, Luigi, pick up. Prove I’m wrong. Prove you’re not doing what I think you’re doing.”

The phone rings, echoing in my ear like a ticking time bomb, but it goes straight to voicemail. My stomach churns, cold fear gripping my chest. My hands are cold on the wheel, and my heart feels like it’s encased in ice, ready to shatter. I want to be wrong. God, I want to be wrong. But deep down, I already know the truth. Luigi is the one helping someone kill Renzo and his brothers. He’s trading their lives for immortality—for him and for Louisa. My mind spins with the weight of it. “Prove me wrong, Luigi,” I whisper desperately. “Answer the damn phone.” I try calling again, but it goes straight to voicemail.

Tears blur my vision, and I blink them back, cursing myself. I was the one who suggested Luigi to Renzo. He’ll think I was in on it, that I set him up. My stomach twists into knots of guilt and panic. I might have been running from my husband, but I never wanted him dead. I love Renzo—I just can’t live the life he wants for me. Staying would mean my death in five years if I’m lucky, probably sooner. And yet here I am, trying to save him, even if he never knows it.

I take a curve too fast, and the car skids, tires screeching on the rain-soaked cobblestones. My heart leaps into my throat, but I manage to regain control, easing off the accelerator. If I crash now, I’ll never get there in time. I try Luigi again, my voice trembling as I leave another voicemail, but he doesn’t answer.

I call Pippa next, my fingers shaking. “Hey, I need you to call Luigi and add me to the call,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

“What?” Pippa’s voice is groggy, tinged with confusion. “Mia, what’s going on?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s not good. I need you to make the call,” I insist, my voice cracking under the weight of my fear.

Pippa hesitates. “I thought you were leaving town. Why do you need to talk to Luigi? If I call him, he’ll think something’s happened to Louisa.”

I bite back my frustration, the urgency clawing at my chest. “Look, Pippa, there’s a lot going on that I can’t explain right now. I just need you to do this, okay?”

“Fine,” she snaps, annoyance sharp in her tone. I don’t blame her, but there’s no time to explain. “Hold on.”

The line between us goes silent, and I keep driving, my eyes darting between the road and the GPS. I’m approaching San Gimignano, but the streets are a twisted, narrow labyrinth. I haven’t been here in years, and every turn feels like a dead end. I follow the winding path until I reach a street so tight that there’s no way the car will fit through. “Fuck!” I scream, pounding the steering wheel again. I glance back at Ralf, but he’s still out cold, blissfully unaware.

Pippa’s voice returns, crackling through the speakers. “He’s not answering,” she says, her tone laced with worry, and it matches the terror that’s clawing at my insides.

My chest tightens, my fear threatening to swallow me whole. “Okay, I’ve got to go.”

“Mia, wait! Tell me—” I drop the call before she can finish. My eyes dart around, searching for a place to park. I spot a small gap between two ancient buildings and jerk the car into it, jamming the BMW into the tight space. I grab the keys, locking Ralf inside, still snoring in the back seat. I have to get to the Duomo, and fast. Why the hell they chose a Duomo in the middle of a medieval city for this meeting is beyond me, but I don’t have time to dwell on it.

I pull up the directions to the Duomo on my phone and start running up the narrow street. The path is steep, winding uphill between stone walls that feel like they’re closing in on me. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my heart pounding as my boots echo against the cobblestones. My muscles burn with every step, but I push forward, my mind locked on one thing—Renzo. I have to get to him before it’s too late.

Chapter

Twenty-Six

“What the hell have you done, Luigi?” The fury in my voice normally causes the strongest of men to shake with fear.

Luigi’s face pales, and his eyes dart nervously around the room, but he tries to bluff his way out of whatever the fuck this is. “I don’t know what the hell you mean! You did the deal. What did I do?” He makes an attempt to sound casual, but the stench of tension radiates off him. He’s a cornered animal, and it shows.

“What’s going on?” Luca asks, stepping forward to stand just behind Luigi’s left side. Nico moves to Luigi’s right, positioning himself like a shadow. We’ve surrounded him, cutting off any escape. Luigi’s phone buzzes loudly in the silence, but he doesn’t even glance at it. He just stares at me, mouth agape, sweat beading on his forehead.

“What have you done, Luigi?” I keep my voice deceptively soft, but simmering anger twists my gut into knots. I already know the answer—I can see it in his eyes, the guilt and fear that’s been eating away at him all night. He knows our secret. That’s why he couldn’t look at me before. “You know we’re vampires, don’t you?” I say, my voice low and dangerous.

Luigi’s mouth opens to deny it, to feign innocence, but the mask slips the moment his phone dings again, the sound like a death knell.He drops the act. “Yeah, I know you fuckers are demons. Pretending to be human, pretending to bela famiglia.You’re all disgusting.”

I tilt my head slightly, my senses on high alert. I can hear movement outside—fast, too fast for humans. It’s the kind of speed only vampires have. “What the hell have you done?” I growl, the rage bubbling up inside me.

“What I needed to do. I always do what I need to,” Luigi says defiantly, but his voice wavers.

The heavy doors of the Duomo creak open, and the sound echoes like a grim reminder of the past. A familiar figure steps inside. Even in the dim candlelight, I recognize the face instantly—Leon Miller, the turned vampire thug who took over Berlin. His eyes gleam with a predatory hunger, and a sick smile curls on his lips.

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