Page 4 of Her Dark Salvation

Mamma threw me a pointed look. I took off my hat, shrugged out of my coat, and hung both next to the door before taking my seat at the head of the table.

The four people I cherished most in the world ate, drank, and laughed. For two decades, I’d been secure in the knowledge I could provide for them and keep them safe with the power of the Valenzanos at my back. Tomorrow, I’d talk to Big Frankie and all responsibility would fall on my shoulders and my shoulders alone.

Determination steeled my resolve. I’d sacrifice anything to provide for each person at that table, to protect blood demons and immigrants, anyone in our community who couldn’t protect themselves. But I’d do it my way, without Vinnie or his drug money.

Back to basics. Bribes, extortion, gambling. These were the rackets I knew, the rackets that got me made. Back to my roots. Even if it meant building my own empire.

ChapterTwo

Anna

Cambridge, Massachusetts, January 2024

Students had returned from the holiday break, and their presence was suffocating. Another reminder that the first day of second semester was fast approaching. Its imminent arrival tightened beneath my chin like a noose, cutting off my air and threatening to snap my neck.

They packed the length of the Infinite Corridor, MIT’s main thoroughfare, and I darted between them as if they were obstacles on a course, speed-walking toward the east-end of campus and my meeting with the dean. Excitement propelled my legs as much as nerves, my mind’s singular focus on securing my escape.

And the fact that I considered going on sabbatical an escape reinforced just how badly I needed a change.

MIT’s campus was a maze of interconnected buildings, its tunnels and corridors an afterthought resulting in a confusing web of disjointed parts. I’d been so lost the first time I’d navigated the labyrinth twenty years ago, a new doctoral candidate in Corporate Finance, trying to make sense of all the nameless schools and offices with only numbers as my guide.

Now, at forty-five, I walked the halls just as bewildered as before, but this time, it wasn’t the building numbers throwing me off. It was my life.

Countless paths unfolded before me, speeding away from my present into myriad futures. I had no idea which path to follow. All I knew was I couldn’t stay on my current trajectory. It ran right into a dead end.

Another ten minutes and I entered the Sloan School’s main building. I darted down the corridor and up the stairs to the dean’s office, eager to get this over with and move on. His office door was ajar, and I pushed it open so he could see me. He was on the phone and waved me in. I removed my coat, folded it over my arm, and sat in the chair on the opposite side of his cluttered desk.

“Yes. Yes, I understand. But the endowment simply does not cover those types of expenses. There’s nothing I can do.”

I glanced around his office and tried not to cringe even though my body was going through a visceral reaction to the mess. Stacks of books and papers littered the floor, and instead of neat rows on the shelf, books laid piled on their sides or askew, half-cocked out of their homes. Dirty coffee mugs adorned the windowsill, and old posters from a conference that had happened over a year ago leaned against the far wall.

Academia. There were reasons for the scatter-brained-professor stereotype, and the evidence occupied Tim Fletcher’s office. I blinked hard to erase the chaos from my mind.

“All right, then. Yes. Thank you. Goodbye.” He hung up the phone, took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. “There’s a certain irony to my life.” He replaced his glasses and gave me a tired smile.

His disheveled gray hair was in desperate need of a cut, and he looked ten years older than I knew him to be, face drawn like he hadn’t slept in days.

Guilt seized me. The last thing I wanted to do was pile more stress on Tim’s shoulders. He didn’t deserve it. He already handled more than his fair share for the department. But I had no choice. I’d reached my breaking point.

“If someone would have told me how much time I’d spend dealing with the finances of the Finance Department, I’d have never become dean.” I huffed out a chuckle. “What can I do for you, Anna?”

“I know the start of the semester is only a couple weeks away, but”—my stomach rolled—“I’d like to go on sabbatical.”

The older man’s head rocked back in surprise. “This is unexpected. And not exactly the best timing.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’m only scheduled to teach one, first-year class. Jack Owens said he’d be happy to teach it for me. He’s taught it before, and he just finished that big research grant with the Fed. He was planning on taking it easy this semester. No research. I’m between grants myself.”

He studied me as if he suspected I was a pod person and not really Anna Barone.

Before he could ask any questions, I cleared my throat and straightened my spine. I’d gone over my argument countless times the night before and was determined to get through my speech without interruption.

“I’ve been tenured for ten years, taught in this department for almost fifteen, and I’ve never taken a sabbatical. My publications are consistent in both quantity and quality, my research grants steady. I’ve taught every class the department has asked me to teach.” I swallowed and blew out a heavy breath. “And if I don’t get a break, I might—I might just quit.”

His eyes widened, and his mouth fell soundlessly open. He studied me for a long moment before leaning forward and clasping his hands atop the desk. “This isn’t like you, Anna. Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

“I need a break, Tim. An extended break. From academia specifically. I—I’m not sure I want to do this anymore.”

“I’m surprised. You have tenure.”

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