Page 69 of Cara
His men.Soldiers.
My stomach somersaults.
What the hell are you doing? Coming back here?
The rental car rolls to a stop, positioned behind the property. The gate enclosing the Marcello estate is just as imposing as I remember. Security was always heightened at night, and I doubt that’s changed, even after all these years.
My hands clutch the steering wheel tightly as I attempt to reassure myself that the men who once tormented me are unlikely to still be in this house if Xavier lives here.
I keep telling myself to exit the car and approach the front door like a normal person.
This is the home of your husband, for God’s sake.
It was also my own personal hell.
A place I wished for death in often, for months that felt like years.
Just being here, witnessing the outdoor lamps shining brightly, illuminating the beautifully landscaped yard we used to play in as children—the same yard he carried me throughafter enduring torture my mind could never have even imagined—I question everything.
Whether I should be doing this. Whether I'm strong enough to face this. Him. What happened.
I'm terrified.
It’s bringing out a weakness I haven’t felt in a long time.
Nevertheless, I lower my hand to remove the key from the ignition. I scan these eerily familiar surroundings, alert for any unexpected movement. Without the gun I typically carried at the compound, I feel ill-equipped, even though my rational mind assures me there's no reason for fear.
The world becomes eerily silent when I exit the car, taking in the clothes I fled Reykjavik wearing. There’s blood. Sweat. Nothing appealing about them. My hands move into my hair, releasing the braid until it tumbles down my back. It’s longer than when he last saw me, completely unkempt.
He won’t care.
Breathe.Breathe, Sophie.
Maybe it’s the year I spent learning to hide, but I find myself lurking around the gate, searching for an unnoticed way in. I don’t want anyone to know I'm back. The world thinks I'm dead. I want it to stay that way.
I just need to see him.
The old fence leading to the garage is under construction. While the mansion is enclosed by iron gates, this one is made of wire. My heart pounds as I lean down to inspect it, discovering a section that has come loose.
As I pull it up, my eyes clamp onto the building behind the house.
My blood freezes over.
As if it were yesterday, I see Xavier loading my weakened body into a vehicle not far from where I am now almost four years ago. Seeing that building means that the cell is still here.
I'm nearly sick at the thought.
Xavier. That’s what matters. His father is dead.
My heart skips a beat as I find the weak point in the wire, bending it back so I can slip through. The freshly cut grass bounces as I press against the gate, my eyes roaming frantically.
Just as I start to doubt that there may not be guards posted, I catch sight of two. They’re facing each other, sharing a cigarette. My stomach turns.
You’ve made it this far.
“Hey!”
My fists ball up as I stiffen, preparing to swing. But they aren’t calling for me. Another guard approaches the others, laughing.
