Page 65 of Veil of the Past
“You’ve got a lot to answer for,” Emiliano says, his voice full of barely contained rage. “And trust me, we’ll get every damn answer out of you.”
Helen’s smile is tight, almost amused. “I wouldn’t count on it,” she replies, a dangerous gleam in her eyes.
I step in front of her, blocking her view of Emiliano. “You’re going to talk,” I say, my voice low and firm. “And if you don’t… well, let’s just say we have other ways to make you.”
She sneers, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. I know she’s weighing her options, trying to decide if she can outlast us, if she can hold onto whatever twisted plan she’s cooked up. But I won’t give her that satisfaction.
“We’re done here, for now,” I say, stepping back and motioning to the door. “Lock her up.”
The guard slams the door shut with a heavyclang, turning the key in the lock.I let out a long sigh, my shoulders relaxing slightly. This is far from over.
I turn to Emiliano and Nicolo. “We need to regroup,” I say. “Figure out what our next move is. We’ve got her, but there’s still so much we don’t know.”
Nicolo nods, his face set in a grim expression. “Yeah. We need to find out who else is involved and where her men are hiding. She’s not working alone.”
“And the girls,” Emiliano adds, his voice tight with worry. “We need to find out what she did to them while they were held.”
I nod, feeling the weight of his words settle over me like a heavy blanket. “I know,” I say quietly.
“You did good,” Nicolo says quietly. “Back there, with Helen. You kept your cool.”
I nod, my throat tight. “Had to,” I reply. “For Alessia.”
He claps a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. “We got her,” he says, “and we’ll get through this. Together.”
I nod again, swallowing hard, my heart aching with the weight of everything that’s happened, everything that’s still to come, but I can’t let it show. I can’t let the fear, the doubt, the guilt consume me. I have to stay focused, stay sharp. For Alessia. For all of us.
I glance over at Helen, locked away in the small, dark room, her face shadowed by the dim light. She’s not done fighting, I can see it in her eyes, but neither are we.
“Let’s get to work,” I say, my voice firm, resolute. “We’ve got a lot to do.”
33
ALESSIA
I’m awake, but everything feels like a blur. The world around me is both too loud and eerily quiet, every sound amplified and muffled all at once. My head throbs, my pulse pounding in my temples, a steady rhythm that matches the terror still thrumming in my veins. I can tell that we’re at Valentina and Emiliano’s apartment.
The softness of the soda beneath me is a stark contrast to the terror I feel inside. I hear the faint rustle of movement from the others—Mara and Valentina. I don't have to look to know that Mara is struggling. Her breaths are coming too fast,sharp, ragged pants that fill the room. I can hear the soft, panicked wheeze with each exhale, the sound of fear squeezing the air out of her lungs. I reach out blindly in the dim light, my fingers brushing against her arm. She jerks away at first, her skin cold and clammy under my touch, but I hold on, firm and steady.
“Mara,” I whisper, my voice barely a thread in the darkness. “It’s okay. I’m here.” My own voice doesn’t sound like mine. It’s raw, shaky, but I try again. “Breathe with me, Mara, okay? Just breathe.”
Her eyes are wild, unfocused. She’s not hearing me; she’s somewhere else, somewhere deep inside her mind where the walls are closing in. I tighten my grip on her arm, my fingers digging into her skin just enough to ground her, to bring her back. “Look at me,” I say, louder this time. “Look at me, Mara. You’re safe now.”
She finally meets my eyes, her chest still heaving and her face pale as tears silently flow down her cheeks. I keep my gaze steady, trying to anchor her to the present, to the reality that we’re no longer tied up, no longer trapped in that dark, suffocating place. I match my breath to hers, slowing, deepening each inhale and exhale, praying she will do the same. Slowly, painfully slowly, her breathing starts to sync with mine, still shaky but less frantic. I don’t let go of her arm, don’t stop whispering reassurances until I feel the tension start to ebb from her muscles.
I glance over at Valentina. She’s sitting against the wall, her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her eyes are open, but there’s no light in them, no recognition. She stares straight ahead, unblinking, unmoving, like she’s somewhere far away. I call her name softly, but she doesn’t respond, doesn’t even flinch.
“Valentina?” I whisper, more urgently this time. “Val, please… look at me.” Nothing. She’s lost in her own head, a place I can’t reach, and my heart aches from the sight of her, usually so strong, so fierce, now so vacant—sogone.
The door opens suddenly, and the light from the hall spills into the room, a harsh, blinding contrast to the dimness that surrounded us for the last two days. Emiliano steps in, his face set in a grim line, but his eyes soften when they land on Valentina. He crosses the room in quick, purposeful strides, dropping to his knees in front of her. “Valentina,” he says softly, his voice a low rumble. “Val… it’s me.”
For a moment, she doesn’t react, and my heart sinks even further, a lead weight in my chest. But then, slowly, so slowly, her eyes shift, focusing on his face, and something flickers in her gaze, a spark of recognition. She blinks, her mouth opening slightly, like she’s trying to say something but doesn’t know how.
Emiliano reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face, his touch soft, almost reverent. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
And then, like a dam breaking, Valentina’s face crumples, and she starts to sob, deep, heart-wrenching cries that shake her whole body. Emiliano pulls her into his arms, holding her close, his hand cradling the back of her head, whispering words I can’t hear over the sound of her grief.
Beside me, Mara is still trembling, her breath uneven, but she’s watching Emiliano and Valentina, her wide eyes filled with something that looks like hope, or maybe envy. Emiliano looks over at her, his expression softening even more. “Mara,” he says, extending a hand. “Come here.”
