Page 19 of Silent Night With Luca

He kneels behind me and loosens the ropes around my wrists. My skin burns where the rope has rubbed it raw, but I barely register the pain. He’s distracted, looking over his shoulder, checking the door. When he moves to stand, he doesn’t bother tightening the knots again.

Mission accomplished.

Neither of us speaks. I wonder if he was told to leave me like this or what is going on, but I’m not here to ask questions. Marco told me the plan and I see my chance to escape.

Now.

I pull my hands free and glance at the door. He’s left it open just a crack. I can hear his footsteps moving away, everyone playing their part.

My feet hit the cold concrete floor, and I take off, running for the back door, my heart pounding. I yank it open, and the icy wind hits me like a wall, biting into my skin. But I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

The snow is deep, and it feels like a thousand needles piercing my feet with every step, but I push through. My breath becomes ragged with each labored step, the cold burns my lungs, and every part of me screams to stop, to turn back. But I keep running.

The woods stretch out in front of me, a maze of trees and shadows. I can hear nothing but the pounding of my ownheart, the crunch of snow under my bare feet, and the wind howling through the trees. Every step is agony, but I push through, knowing if I stop, I’m dead.

Branches claw at my arms, the icy ground cuts into me, and my vision blurs as the frigid air tightens its grip. I’m starting to lose feeling in my toes, but I push forward, gasping for oxygen as I break through the treeline.

The road is up ahead, barely visible through the trees. I stumble forward, falling to my knees before I push myself up again. I can’t feel my legs anymore, but I have to keep going.

Just as I reach the edge of the road, headlights cut through the darkness. A car. My only hope.

I wave my arms, screaming for help, though my voice is weak, hoarse from the cold. I think I’m still crying, but there are no tears left to shed.

It’s like everything inside of me has turned into ice. The car slows, and I stumble forward, collapsing on the side of the road just as the door opens.

I barely rememberthe ride back to the lodge. I’m half-conscious when I stumble inside, the warmth hitting me in a wave that makes my body shudder with relief.

Marina Catalano is the first person I see. She covers her mouth with her hand, and rushes toward me, wrapping me in a blanket. Her voice is soft but urgent. “Dio mio, Fiamma! What happened?”

“I escaped,” I whisper, my throat raw. “I got away. Where is Luca?”

She nods, helping me into a chair in a small room off of the entrance. Her hands moving quickly as she grabs more blankets. “Luca has been worried sick. I’ll call him now. He’ll come right away.”

I pull my legs up and wrap my arms around them, trying to warm my frozen limbs. My mind is still racing.

I made it. I escaped Marco. But this is only the beginning.

SEVEN

Luca

When I walk into the luggage room, the first thing I see is her. Fiamma. Barely conscious, slumped in a chair, wrapped in several layers of blankets.

Tangled and wet from the snow, her hair is a matted mess. In the dim light, her skin is pale, almost blue, with patches of red, angry chapping across her face and lips. Her hands rest limply on her lap, her fingers cold to the touch, pink and raw from the cold.

My stomach tightens, a surge of anger and panic rising all at once. She looks… broken.

Marina’s hovering by the door, worry etched into her face. “She’s been like this since she came in,” she whispers, wringing her hands. “Frozen to the bone. She doesn’t have any shoes on. I’ve done what I can, but she needs rest, warmth.”

I nod, my throat tight. Fiamma’s chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, her lips cracked and dry. She looks so fragile, so completely unlike the feisty, maddening woman Iknow, the woman who could drive me insane with a single look. Now… she’s barely holding on.

I kneel beside her, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face, trying not to let the flood of emotions show. “Fiamma,” I say, my voice low, careful. “I’m going to carry you to your suite now.”

She barely nods, but acknowledges what I’ve said. I pick her up, cradling her in my arms, leaving her blankets in place.

“Marina, don’t mention this to anyone. I want to get to the bottom of this so that I know what we are dealing with.”

“Yessir, Mr. Rossi. Not a word.”

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