Elena walked by my side, offering her support with an arm around me. We looked like a rightly interesting trio. Me, in nothing but briefs with a bandaged leg, Elena in her dressing robe, and Ivy in her skimpy club outfit and heeled boots.
After sharing my truth with Elena in the darkness, I felt like something had shifted. I wasn't sure why I'd felt the desire to share with her. Maybe it was my injury and loss of blood making me sentimental. But she'd just listened, a solid comfort as I relieved that nightmare, revealing my raw pain and suffering to her.
She'd not judged or shown me pity, just remained quiet and comforting. It was all I'd needed.
"I wish I had shoes," Elena said as she stumbled, making pain flare through my leg. I'd awoken to it feeling slightly better, until we'd gotten moving. Each step increased my agony, forcing me to limp heavily. I silently prayed it wasn't infected.
I grunted as a rock jabbed into the underside of my foot, making me wince and lean too much on my wounded leg.
"Maybe we should stop for a bit. You need to rest," Elena said, but I shook my head.
"Keep moving," I grunted. "We're exposed out here."
I didn't need to voice my concerns, they both understood. If Other Malatesta's found us, then we were shit out of luck.
I clutched my gun tighter, wishing I wasn't walking barefooted with nothing but briefs. Then again, Elena was wearing a simple nightgown and robe as well, her bare feet covered in dirt and dust.
Exhaustion weighed on me like armor. After a somewhat restless, painful night with barely any sleep, I was running on fumes. No fever yet—small mercies—but the lethargy was dangerous. We needed to find help, find a way back to the city. This dirt road seemed to lead nowhere, just deeper into the sticks.
My body ached from the ordeal, muscles screaming from tension and exertion. The memory of Elena's fingers pressing against my wound, trying to stop the bleeding, flashed through my mind. I'd nearly died protecting them. Protecting her.
And she'd then saved me.
The silence was broken only by our labored breathing and the occasional bird call that seemed obscenely cheerful given our circumstances. Ivy kept glancing over her shoulder, as if expecting Alfeo to rise from the dead and follow us. I couldn't blame her. I'd seen death before, too many times in my line of work, but even if I had developed an unflinching response to it, I knew it was not the same for them. Death was never easy to witness when it wasn't a part of your daily life. It never became less violent, less immediate.
It was both a blessing and a curse of mine, how it didn't reach me as much any more.
You couldn't let it, couldn't falter. One mistake or hesitation could be your last.
By some sheer miracle, we reached the end of what must have been the long dirt drive and stepped onto an asphalt road. One full of potholes, but a proper road nonetheless. The sight of it nearly brought tears to Elena's eyes.
"Should we tell the truth?" she asked, breaking the silence now. "That we were kidnapped? That you were shot?" Her tone was cautious, but I couldn't miss the edge underneath. The thought of explaining this to police, of dragging the Donati name into an official report, clearly made her anxious.
I shook my head, wincing as I shifted my weight. "No cops if we can help it." My voice came out rough, like sandpaper over stone. I should've drank more water before we'd left the house. "Donatis can clean up the mess, but I'd rather not make one if we don't have to."
She didn't argue. Just nodded, lips pressed tight. The reality of my world—of what was now her world too—settled over her like a shroud. We were dealing with a shooting, a kidnapping, a death, and our first instinct was to avoid authorities. Six months ago, she would have been appalled. Now, I could see she understood the necessity with a clarity that should have frightened her.
I gave them Roman's number, repeating it until both Elena and Ivy could recite it back without blinking. My eyes felt heavy, clouded with pain, but I forced my mind to stay tactical.
"If we flag someone down, I'll stay hidden," I instructed. "You call him. Use the codeword, he'll know what to do."
"What's the codeword? Will he send a full SWAT team?" Ivy asked, her voice steady.
"Pickle," I said, feeling the ghost of a smile touch my lips. "Tell him we're in a pickle. It's to mean we need assistance but isn't Grade A life-threatening."
"Oh, cause this isn't life-threatening?" Ivy scoffed.
"If he thinks it's that, he'll send a chopper with a SWAT team," I stated. "Might be a bit too much."
"Right." Elena nodded.
"What if Alfeo's men come for us?" Ivy shot back.
"Honestly, if they intended to, they would've found us already. They'd have gone to any locations Alfeo would potentially run to," I assured them. It was what I'd been going over in my mind. But it also made me wonder if the Malatesta we'd left behind had kept his mouth shut completely. If he'd gone to the Donatis, the Malatesta would've likely co-operated to keep the peace, offering up all locations as well. So, someone should have come out this way.
Unless the house was not a safe-house like I'd assumed.
We waited by the roadside, me concealed behind a large oak tree while Elena and Ivy stood with their thumbs out.Long enough for my pulse to settle into something steady. Long enough for the pain in my thigh to become a dull, constant throb.
