Page 108 of Salvatore

That sounds fun. Why don’t you send me some pics to get the party started?

I glower, yet I can’t help the humor-filled curve that tilts my lips.

He wants pics? Fine, I’ll give him pics.

I spend the rest of the afternoon texting random images of things I find around the house. Like the fridge door, the faucet in my private bathroom, an up-close action shot of an ant I spot trekking along the kitchen tile, and also an artful snap of the cutlery drawer.

He doesn’t respond to the thirty-plus texts, but each time I hit send I imagine him smirking through thinly veiled annoyance.

It’s enough to keep me distracted until night falls when Catarina returns to her cottage. But as soon as the front door closes, I find myself fighting the need to descend the stairs to the basement to learn more about Adena.

Twenty-seven minutes is all it takes to lose the battle.

“Why were you imprisoned?” I ask in greeting, making myself at home on the floor at the end of the passage, my back against the wall, my face tilted toward the inky black.

It’s not like I can’t unlearn the knowledge of her captivity, so I might as well understand the details of it.

“Has my son not told you?” Her accent is thicker than before, more harshly cultivated from what I assume is exhaustion after I kept her awake last night.

“We’re not really at the let’s-talk-about-my-imprisoned-mother stage.” I cuddle my thighs to my chest, resting my chin against my knees. “And when I texted him today, I didn’t want to cause issues by hinting at my newfound knowledge.”

“Good. I spent the day worrying about your safety if you told someone. Do you have any idea when he will return?”

“No.” I also don’t understand why she’s avoided my question.

“Well, if you plan to visit again, you should know the secure metal door at the start of the passage is meant to be kept closed. Catarina has grown lax in her duties and keeps leaving it open. So if you find yourself locked out, the code is nine-five-six-six. Can you remember that?”

Nine-five-six-six.

Nine-five-six-six.

“Yes.” I commit the digits to memory and remain quiet, hoping the break in conversation will remind Adena of what I asked, but the silence stretches.

I guess she doesn’t want to talk about her imprisonment. Maybe she no longer wants to talk at all.

Disappointment crawls under my skin.

Today had felt lighter knowing I had the option of company tonight. The thing is, I don’t usually let down my guard. It’s the familiarity of a maternal figure that has dismantled those walls with relative ease. Or maybe it’s the perfect storm of isolation, trauma, and the way I miss my mom. But I guess we also have a lot in common given the whole being-held-captive-by-family-members thing.

Finally, she sighs. “You’re waiting for me to tell you why I’m here, aren’t you?”

A sad smile tugs at my lips. “Yes, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s a long story that is best not to share, but the main contributing factor is that my brother turned my children against me.” Emotion bleeds through the darkness making me yearn to give her a hug. “I tried my best and did everything I could to protect them. But it wasn’t enough. Eventually, they all banded together to lock me up.”

“Even Salvatore?”

“Even Salvatore. But he’s since seen the error of his ways. He’s trying to get me out.”

I sit straighter. “He can’t just open the cell door?”

“That would risk his position in the family, and I wouldn’t want him to do that. These things take time.”

Almost two years’ worth?

I hug my legs tighter to my chest. “Is there anything I can do?”

I want to retract the question as soon as it’s out. To snatch the words one by one and shove them back down my throat.

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