Page 57 of The Eagle's Vault

With a final glance at my betrayer, I turned my back and headed for the stairs. We’d be meeting with Ferraro himself later in the morning. Would Fenix be there? Had Scarlett signed our death warrants by agreeing to the meet?

And if not, how would we find the man who’d turned her into a pawn?

Chapter 22

Leigh

Saturdaymorning,alifetimeaway from Friday morning’s panicked escape from Cassaforte, I was in a whole other world. The car, a glossy luxury sedan, wound its way up a serpentine driveway. Rav, all precision and efficiency, manned the wheel. Scarlett, perched in the passenger seat, was the epitome of calm.

“Stay close to Declan.” Scarlett’s words broke the quiet hum of the engine. “Follow his lead and everything will be fine.”

My throat tightened. Declan, next to me, didn’t react. Cool as always. I looked out the window at the whitewashed villa that came into view, perched like an elegant ghost atop the hill. Beyond it, the Mediterranean stretched into the horizon.

Tall cypress pines lined the driveway. Bushes, gardens, and small buildings surrounded the three-story villa southeast of Rome. Giovanni Ferraro must have had an army of gardeners working for him.

“What’s going to happen?” The drive had taken less than an hour, just enough time for me to suppress my need to leap out of the car and run for home fifteen times.

Dinner with Jayce last night had been quiet, but I hadn’t stopped looking over my shoulder to enjoy it. After escaping from Giovanni Ferraro’s security man yesterday, I could have sworn someone was watching me every minute.

“Don’t worry, Leigh.” Scarlett turned to give me a gentle smile. “We’ve worked with Giovanni before. We have a good relationship.”

Her casual tone was a stark contrast to the tension I felt. I swallowed, trying to calm the rapid flutter in my chest.

“Still,” she continued, “you’ll see a lot of men with guns. Some of them big ones—both the men and the guns. Just remember, they’re not there for you.”

“We’re the good guys, right?” Declan’s fingers drummed a quick rhythm on his knees, betraying something underneath his cool facade.

“That’s right,” Scarlett said, grinning at him. “So be a good boy and keep an eye on Leigh.”

“Guess you’re stuck with me.” Declan winked at me, causing the flutter to sink deeper in my belly. The engine’s hum seemed to fade into the background. “Boss’s orders.”

I managed little more than a nod, too caught in the pull of his gaze to form a reply.

“We’ll be fine.” If Scarlett said it enough times, I might believe her.

I sucked in my bottom lip, my heart a chaotic drumbeat. Thoughts ricocheted inside my skull, my desire for the safety of home warring with Jayce’s words that I was no safer there.

Glimpses of crumbling ruins at the base of the hill caught my eye, the hint of a once-grand villa, now reduced to a hollow testament of time and decay. I sat up taller in my seat, scanning the ancient floor plan. It ran toward the sea, a natural pool forming between the remnants of a sea break. That was more like what I was hoping to see when I came to Rome.

If only I’d come a day early. If only Edoardo’s other safe hadn’t required the subtle touch of Declan’s skill. A different timeline, a different Leigh. Would I have remained blissfully ignorant of the pandemonium I’d been thrown into?

A voice punctured my thoughts. “Leigh, you hearing me?”

Scarlett’s question pulled me into the moment. The leather seat beneath me felt too real, too present.

“Yeah.” I eased back into the seat, watching as a tower looming behind the villa stretched over us.

She cocked an eyebrow at me but didn’t press further.

Declan’s hand wrapped around mine, his grip strong. He was a rock in the raging storm inside me. “Nothing bad is going to happen.”

I wanted to believe him. God, how much I wanted to believe him. But the pit in my stomach argued otherwise, churning with uncertainty. I offered him a shaky smile, hoping that the tremor in my grip didn’t betray the riot in my head.

Nothing bad is going to happen.I repeated his words like a mantra. Yet, the white-knuckled fear gripping me begged to differ.Focus on the hot guy holding your hand. Distract yourself.

Declan wore navy slacks and a white, short-sleeved button-down. A pair of sunglasses hung from where he’d undone a few buttons of the shirt. A steel-banded watch adorned his wrist, the crown emblem on it hinting at wealth. Images of him in the thermal suit flooded me, the hard slope of his pectorals, ripped abs, perfect ass.

Scarlett had loaned me another outfit, ensuring I fit in with the group for this meeting. Skinny pants and light-pink silk blouse with a neckline enhanced by the new bra. Ballet flats instead of heels, and a diamond necklace that likely cost as much as Declan’s Rolex. Hiding under a tarp had only entered my thoughts three times—when men I passed on my way to the car had turned and stared.

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