Page 88 of Dreadful
I could sprint to the car now and see if it’s unlocked—
No, too many people are already out here to see me loitering around an ultra-expensive car. And even if it isunlocked, Severino’s entourage could return at just the wrong moment. Then I’d get caught or killed.
What about…
As I wait for my prey to finally surface, I run through a million different scenarios. In every single one, I get caught or killed, caught or killed, caught or killed. It’s exhausting just thinking about the failed possibilities, and my nerves are so fried that throwing caution to the wind starts to feel as good an idea as any.
There’s no afterparty this time, so I don’t know what the fuck is taking them so long, unless Severino’s mother insisted on meeting the cast again anyway. I wouldn’t be surprised about that, actually. She seems the type to insist people perform for her on her time.
Antonella never said a bad word about anyone around me, but she never said a good one about Gertrude Luciano, either. After my first few minutes of recon a couple of months ago, I could tell why. The woman likes foxglove, one of the deadliest flowers known to man, for God’s sake. She’s crazier than I am.
The masses continue to slowly trickle out until the ramps that wrap around the building are completely empty.
I frown and glance toward the parking lot. The Rolls-Royce is now one of the only cars left. Anticipation thrums through my veins. Fewer cars means fewer witnesses, which could work in my favor. But what the hell is taking them so long?
Not a second later, four figures finally emerge from around the corner on the ramp leading from the front door.
Claudio and Gertrude walk side by side like a stoic bride and groom cake topper, while Judge Blunt marches along behind them. Severino takes up the rear, and the rhythmic taps of his cane echo across the pavement.
They sound slower than usual. His ankle looked pretty swollen the other night, and the pitiful wrap job I did with muslin and cotton swatches couldn’t have helped much.
Guilt twinges in my chest. What if he’s still in pain—
Stop it.
Once again, my heart is trying to get me in trouble, and I have to tamp down its pathetic need for a happy ever after. I tighten my grip on my knife to remind myself why I’m here. The handle is slippery in my sweaty palm after waiting for so long, and I clutch it so hard that my hand cramps.
I slowly inch forward when Severino calls to his mother. The whole entourage halts, and I freeze with them. He says something to her, and Claudio’s voice booms across the parking lot.
“You mean to tell me we waited for you to hobble out of the theater only to have you slow us down and then take a cab? Fucking ridiculous. Get out of here, boy.”
I shouldn’t be shocked when Severino listens and turns around to head back to the front of the theater. If he’s under Claudio’s thumb, being ordered to go home is the least of his worries.
Even from here, Claudio looks pissed that Severino doesn’t argue back with him. The Boss finally resorts to waving the whole incident off like a gnat and leads his party of three down the ramp to the parking garage.
Frustration flushes my cheeks. I wanted to get all of them at once…but maybe this is a stroke of luck after all. Taking on three men with one knife are never great odds, especially when one of the men can whip his cane around better than a prized fighter can throw a punch. But with Severino gone, the odds have tipped way in my favor.
The trio finally enters the parking garage, and I glance around for places to hide and flee now that most of the cars are gone. I might have to jump over the short railing, but I did it before.
Wind flutters a curl in my eyes, and I pull my hood around my face. It’ll be the last time I can wear this jacket since Gertrude will see a killer wearing it. If I avoid the lights and security cams, she shouldn’t be able to identify me. It’s a pity that none of them will see my scars, and it’s a tragedy that Claudio and the judge might die thinking this is a random act of violence.
No. Fuck that.
The thought rankles, and I spit in my hand before wiping my palm over my lower jaw. It won’t be enough to remove the professional-grade makeup completely, but hopefully I’m revealing enough of the scar, so they know their maker when they meet her.
When they get ten yards away from their car, I finally prowl out from behind the dumpster toward them.
One step. Another. Another. I’m slinking along like a cobra waiting to strike. They talk among themselves, having no idea that this is the last conversation that the three of them will have together.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t wait for Severino?” his mom asks.
“He said he’d take a cab, Trudy. What do you want me to do about it? He’s a grown ass man.”
“Yes, but you saw him. He was struggling just to walk.”
The judge grunts, and the sound rips like a jagged knife down my spine. I stop in my tracks beside the van and cling to its side mirror. My teeth clench to keep the sudden nausea at bay. It’s only made worse when the judge begins to speak, and his words slur thanks to the concession stand’s unlimited drinks.
“Serves him right for trying to attack me. He’s lucky I didn’t kill him with that steak knife.”
