Page 1 of Reign of Psychos

1

Thea

“Edna O’Brian?” The immigration agent looked at my passport and then at me before frowning.

I gritted my teeth in annoyance. Why couldn’t Declan have given me a cool name like Sierra or Lola? Edna was more suited to an old lady with a blue rinse or a woman with white skin and red hair. Not me, with my black hair, dark eyes, and olive complexion.

“Edna was my grandmother’s name.” I tried to smile but it felt more like a grimace.

“Hmm.” The man spent a few more seconds inspecting my passport and then reluctantly waved me through.

Since I had no luggage, I hurried into the Arrivals lounge with my head down and my eyes hidden behind some dark glasses. Dad wouldn’t be expecting me, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

My first job was to cut my hair and peroxide the shit out of it. Then I needed to buy a gun. That would be trickier, but I had a source in mind. Hopefully, he was still hanging around the usual bar.

Unwanted thoughts of the guys filtered into my head, but I shoved them down. By now, they would have realized I’d left. I felt bad about leaving Milo so quickly. He didn’t deserve to be treated like a one-night hookup. He was so much more than that.

I scanned the Arrivals area, looking for the electronics store, so I could buy a new phone and SIM. I’d powered off the old one and shoved it into my backpack. Luckily, the agent who sold me a ticket to Italy via London had been kind enough to print off paper boarding passes when I explained my phone was dead.

The last thing I needed was Milo tracking my movements via my phone. He might not have the capability, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Not with so much at stake.

As I looked around, I spotted a guy staring at me. My hackles rose, and I tensed up. Had my dad found me already? If so, how? Only one person knew I was here.

The guy walked toward me with a purposeful look. I stepped back and quickly assessed how long it would take me to reach the exit and jump into a waiting taxi. It was doable.

Just as I started to move toward the sliding doors, he raised his hand and called,

“Miss! Fausto sent me.”

My new friend, Carlo, used a code to retrieve a key and waved me into a small apartment above a pizzeria. The smell of tomato and herbs drifting up reminded me I’d eaten nothing but a cheese roll all day.

Nausea churned in my gut and for a moment, I wobbled a little, but it passed.

“Fausto said to give you this.” Carlo handed me a phone and an envelope of cash. “There’s a bag in the bedroom closet with some weapons. He said he’ll call you later.”

He waved goodbye and then left me alone in the apartment. I closed the door and locked it.

The apartment was basic, but clean, with a bland bedroom, kitchen/living room, and bathroom. It overlooked the main square, and in the distance, the ocean sparkled in the sun.

It was the sort of place where people stayed if they wanted to save money. My plan had been to book a cheap hotel while I figured out my next steps after talking to Fausto, but this was better. Hotels had staff who noticed people like me, whereas nobody would pay any attention to a woman staying in a budget Airbnb.

When I opened the small closet in the bedroom, I found a canvas holdall containing a small Glock, a box of ammo, and a tactical knife. For the first time all day, I smiled.

Being parted from my weapons had left me feeling vulnerable. Sure, Kyril and Dario had both had guns at the safe house, but neither of them bothered giving me one. I’d lost my precious knives when Torrance kidnapped me, and the new ones Kyril gave me for Christmas were stashed in a closet inside Declan’s apartment.

After checking and loading the gun, I placed it and the knife on the nightstand.

It was still mid-afternoon, so there was little point in venturing out to find my contact, and besides, I needed to talk to Fausto first.

Exhaustion won the fight, so after showering, I crawled into bed and fell asleep.

By the time I opened my eyes again, it was early evening. Music from the pizzeria below filtered through the window. The scentof cheese and tomato made my stomach cramp with hunger. I desperately needed to eat something greasy, like a pizza.

Since there were no missed calls from Fausto, I got dressed and walked down to buy a pie.

Damn, I’d missed authentic Italian pizza. The pizza they’d served at college was edible, but not as good as this. It hit the spot perfectly, successfully banishing my hunger pangs and nausea in one fell swoop. Just as I shoved the empty box aside, the burner phone rang.

“Theadora, welcome back to Italy,cara.” Fausto’s smooth voice echoed down the line, and I smiled.

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