Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 73663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Maddie, hold on, wait—”
I hang up before Nicole can protest more and shove the phone back into my back pocket. I take a few steps toward the bedroom door and press my ear against the wood, trying to listen, feeling sick to my stomach.
Could I be wrong? Did I really hear a scream? Maybe I’m just losing my mind and I’m starting to hear stuff. Isn’t that a symptom of schizophrenia?
But it happens again. A definite scream and it’s coming from nearby.
I whip the door open without thinking.
I’m in the home of a gangster. A mafia killer, a monster. I should’ve seen it earlier, should’ve realized what I was getting myself into, but I got seduced by Renzo’s charm, by his money, by his power. I let him trick me into ruining my life.
This is what I get for being a reckless idiot.
This is why I keep my head down, keep quiet, keep hidden.
I walk down the hall, breathing hard. I hear voices ahead in one of the rooms and I pause nearby, listening intently. There are two people talking, a woman saying something in a low, soothing tone, and another woman who sounds frightened. She’s saying something, I can’t tell what through the door, and she screams again.
Somebody’s in trouble. I feel sick to my stomach but if that woman needs help, I can’t exactly sit around and do nothing. I think about calling the cops, but what’s that going to do? If Renzo’s really in the mafia, the police aren’t exactly going to come kick down the door. And even if they do, Renzo will punish me for that later.
Instead, I turn the knob, and look inside.
It’s another bedroom. This one looks older with carpet on the floor and blinds over the windows. It smells like menthol and medicine, and there are old pictures in black and white lining a nearby dresser.
An old woman’s sitting on the bed in a nightgown. Her gray hair’s loose around her shoulders and she’s shaking her head, over and over again, as a woman in scrubs rubs her back and tries to calm her down. The old woman shrieks, sounding shrill and scared, and tries to push the nurse back. But the nurse doesn’t move, only stays calm, still rubbing the old woman’s back.
I don’t understand what I’m seeing.
“Maddie.”
I let out a yelp and jerk away from the room. I spin around and run directly into a big, broad chest, and have only half a moment before Renzo grabs my wrist, his grip tight enough to hurt. He pulls me away and shuts the door, turning so his back is between me and whatever’s happening inside. His expression is pure, black fury, and I’m afraid he’s going to hurt me.
No, I’m sure he’s going to. That’s the look of a human used to inflicting pain on others when they break his rules.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, not sure what the hell’s going on. “I heard a scream and I got scared so I came out to see what was going on and I shouldn’t have gone in there and I’m so sorry—”
His expression softens. He’s still angry, but some semblance of humanity returns to his eyes, and his grip on my wrist softens. “Come with me.”
I stagger after him as he drags me back to his bedroom. The door slams shut and he deposits me on the edge of the bed as he paces in front of me, clearly debating what he wants to say. I sit still, hands folded in my lap, willing myself to stay calm, stay meek, stay small. No risks, no outbursts. If I’m not threatening, he won’t hurt me.
“What you saw in there—” He stops and looks at me. There’s pain in his expression mixed with anger.
“I won’t tell anyone, I swear.”
That confuses him. “Why would you tell someone?”
“Because—” I stop myself. Crap, that was stupid. I rack my brain for an excuse, but Renzo steps closer.
“Because why, bella topo?”
“I know what you are. I figured it out.” I whisper the words, keeping my chin up. Calm, but not weak. Small, but not pathetic. It’s a fine line to walk but I’ve been mastering it for a very long time. “I won’t tell anyone.”
Amusement cracks his face. “And what am I?”
“Mafia.”
He laughs and scrubs a hand through his hair. “And you think that woman in there has something to do with my family’s organization?”
I hesitate. “She doesn’t?”
“No, bella topo. Not in the way you’re thinking.” He sits heavily on the bed and leans back on his hands. “That was my mother.”
I stare at him, mouth hanging open. Then it makes sense: I barely caught a glimpse of her, but she looked around the right age. And there was a hint of Renzo in her nose and her eyes. The resemblance was faint, but there.