by Sunniva Dee
I nod.
“I have to tell you something. Everything’s going to be okay, but I need you to be prepared: they brought Gabriela. She’s right there, and they’ll force her to lend her eye to the scanner.”
I inhale so sharply I choke halfway through. On instinct, I press my ear to the wall in hopes of a connection through the thick mud. I hear her, my brave sister, and she’s wailing. Desperate, she howls. “No, no, stop!”
A hiccough surges from the bottom of my stomach. She knows we’re here, and like every Nascimbeni, she’d give her life to keep us safe. Just, it wouldn’t help if she did. They’d use her either way, her dead eye, her dead iris, and my sister’s aware. I hate the sound of her anguish.
I cock my gun, steady on my feet by the door. My aunt wants me to step aside, but I shake my head. “I want to see her first.”
“Remember”—Zia Carola leans close, whispering the words against my ear—“Gabriela is your height. Every man out there is at least half a head taller.”
I tip my gun upward, aiming at the part of the door that will slide open first.
“Esattamente. Aim above her head, and you can shoot as many as you want. Remember, you have eight rounds in your gun.”
I bob my head.
“You can do a lot of damage with eight. I can do a lot of damage with eight. We have another eight each in the second gun.”
“Okay.”
“We need to make them count, because the Colombini won’t give us time to reload.”
“Got it.”
The door breaks open, and Gabriela flies inward. I don’t have time to study her. She slams down, and above her head are forehead-shaped targets. I blast them with steady hands, work fast before shock can eat at me—one, two. I get three with ear-numbing explosions.
Men fall over the stairway banister. I can’t hear them, but their expressions shout, surprise, horror, sweat, blood. My aunt’s plan is suddenly clear as day: she’s taking out the newcomers, leaving the intruders to me.
My sister’s at my feet. Face down, she’s writhing. I shoot tumbling devils, big, gross, sticky bodies that bury her. I want to pull her free, but I don’t have time. I need to shoot, shoot— My gun has lived its life.
A merciless fist grabs me, but I get the owner’s temple with my empty weapon, using all the force I have. He shouts, grip leaving my arm. I pull the other gun out, cock it— I cock it with my breath hissing in my lungs.
“Fucking stop them, morons!” someone roars. “It’s just two Nascimbeni bitches. How are you dropping like flies?”
They’re determined beasts now that our advantage of surprise is gone. I have time to clip down a last Colombini before I’m punched in the face. My knees fold under me. I fall awkwardly. Landing on my side, I get a desperate glimpse of Gabriela, who’s squirming under the bodies I’ve dropped.
I sob, the physical pain tripling with my barrenness; my gun. It’s gone, and my hope disappears with it.
Slow motion is a strange thing. It’s on films, but it also happens when life goes too fast. I see it now, how they point their guns at me and say my name. Why do they say my name?
It’s her, Silvina di Nascimbeni!
My arms are spread on the floor. Like wings, they’re spread, and I feel it, with one finger, the cool steel of my gun. I can’t pick it up.
My sister lifts her gaze and meets mine. With my eyes, I say the most important thing there is: ti amo, carina sorella. Then, with the flick of a finger, I send the gun beneath her shoulder.
“Destroy this place!”
They crowd us.
“Erase every damn sign of its existence!”
They’re so many.
Our guns have stopped firing. I don’t know how many men Zia Carola and I have wounded. It doesn’t matter. I’m lifted to my feet as Zia Carola cries out behind me. A searing pain goes off in my head. Bam.
15. WELCOME
GIOELE
I dive in from the mudroom to see his mass against the wall where he manhandles her. Ma’s screams are like a wildcat’s. He’s trying to lower his pants at the same time as he’s keeping her trapped. He’s having a hard time, but guess what, it’s about to get a whole lot worse.
Behind me, Fritz and Bully start shooting while I lunge at the piece of shit holding my mother. I wrench him to the floor and start pounding at his face with everything I’ve got. “You. Son. Of a bitch!” Punching. Punching. Punching.
“Figlio, no time,” Ma pants. I look up. Watch her straighten her shirt. Then, she jerks her head at the gun I’m holding. I nod, touch his forehead with it, and watch his eyes lose their fear with the short pow I press into his skull.
Fritz helps Gabi to her feet and shields her with his body. He takes a punch to the head but retaliates quickly with a blow to the guy’s temple. Gabi has a gun too. Hands shaking, she lifts it behind Fritz. Next, she snips a Colombini targeting him and watches him thump to the floor.
In my peripheral, Colombinis run down the corridor toward the bomb shelter. “Ma, the others. Are they in there?”
“Yes.”
Good. The bomb shelter can stave off anything. Almost. Fuck, I need reinforcements down here. We’d never do to the Colombini famiglie what they want to do to ours.
The bunker teems with these people. What if I got them into the dog park? Walls, ground, and ceiling made by hard-packed dirt, it’s simply a shitty cave for a shitty purpose. How much shittier could I make it by luring our enemy in there, shutting the door, and blowing them all to Hell?
Gabriela whispers, “They took Silvina.”
“What?”
The metal stairway sings with footsteps behind us. I turn, see Felix and dozens of his men, but my relief feels bone-thin.
“Down the west corridor,” I shout to Felix, who nods and waves his guys forward. The hallway is full of fallen Santa Colombini.
“Felix?”
He turns, waiting.
“At the end of the hallway, there’s a bomb shelter. About fifty women and children have locked themselves in there. The Santa Colombini can’t breach it.”
He nods again. “We’ve got it covered.”
“Gabi. Ma.” I look between them. “Where’s Silvina?”
Ma draws a shaky breath. “I didn’t see.”
I pull her into a hug, squeeze her in the seconds I have while I stare at Gabriela.
“Where’s your sister?” I demand.
The brutality of their treatment of Gabriela is surreal. Black bags grow around her eyes, and her nostrils hold dry blood. Something’s happened to one of her ears. Torture? Was she—
“Gabi.” I stare at her hand. She hides it, but not before I see the bloody remnants of the three middle fingers.
She straightens, her whole body shaking with the effort of holding her upright. “They took her. Randolfo Santa Colombini left with her.”
“That doesn’t make any sense!” I shout. “What does he want with her?”
She shakes her head. “Shortly after you guys left San Francisco, I was contacted by your new employer. That’s what he called himself anyway.”
“My new employer?”
“He didn’t mention the company name. Something porn, though. He wanted me to pick up your check. He’d have given it to Silvina, he said, but since he was unable to get a hold of her…”
“Silvina has nothing to do with my new job. Was it Keegan Cuevas?”
She blinks, trying to concentrate. “No. His name was John something. I was supposed to meet him at this bar.”
“And you went?”
“Yeah.”
“He the one who did this to you?” I gesture toward her.
“Yeah.” Her eyes fill with tears. “I should have verified with you, but he was all business on the phone and didn’t have much time. A bar’s a public place, I figured
. It was even on my way home. You know? He bought me a drink there. I opted for Coke, but after a few sips I felt weird.”
“Rufis?”
“No idea. I didn’t touch my drink after that.” She covers her mouth, inhaling air in a quiet hiss. “He started quizzing me about Silvina, and that’s when I freaked out and left. He caught up with me on Sunbeam, though.”
“That’s the alley behind your street, right?”
“Yeah.” She sniffles. “I wish I’d stayed at home waiting for Isaias’ escort. Instead all this happened.” She shrugs, not flaunting what I see on my own: bruises. A bloody ear. The hands she’s hiding behind her back.
“They made you bring them here.”
“God, I should have let them kill me.”
I pull her into a hug. “Gabi, cugina. We’re going to fix this, okay?”
“Where’s she going?” Gabi’s eyes follow my mother down the corridor.
The gunshots sound faint from within the dark dirt of the bunker.
“Shit. Wait here. Ma?” My mother starts to run, but she can’t outrun me. “What are you doing?”
She slows her steps but keeps walking, stare trained with purpose.
I grab her by the shoulders. “Ma, we need you. There are enough fighters in there, and for the sake of the entire family, we need Gabriela and you alive. Got it? We don’t know how everything will turn out, but we love you. And if you perish”—I clear my throat—“Il Lince will leave complete disaster in his wake, and he won’t care about collateral damage.”
Her chest heaves with grief. “Ariadna is in there. They can’t get to my baby.”
“Right, and we’re taking care of it. Okay? You need to be waiting for her when she comes out.”
I stare, willing her to understand. Behind us, Gabriela’s catching up. The seconds we stand there feel like minutes. Until Ma, for the first time in our lives, bows her head to her youngest son, the wild one, the rebel.
“Be careful, amore mio.” With a last, pleading glance, my mamma turns to Gabriela, takes that first step away. Then, the two of them walk toward the exit.
SILVINA
I wake up to gruff voices talking in Venetian. It’s an Italian dialect I’m used to, but with the blood thundering in my head, it’s not soothing. I don’t know these voices, and the vehicle I’m in drives too fast.
I open one eye and look around. I’m sprawled out on the row of a van, with two men in the front, one at my side, and by the voices, a few in the back.
“That bunker is full of Nascimbeni loyals. Ricci’s gonna have a blast with that.”
Ugly laughter boulders around me.
“Yeah, he’s a mostro,” someone says. A monster.
I can’t bear to think of Ariadna. Zia Carola and I were shooting the monsters. Taking them out. We were doing well! I’m sure we got rid of a dozen men on our own.
With my eyes closed, I move slowly, inconspicuously patting myself down in search of my phone. It’s not there. I swallow the bile in my throat.
What’s happening to my family? Are they alive, dead, being subjected to humiliation, excruciating pain? Where’s my father, my uncle, my cousins…
Where’s Gioele?
The vehicle jolts to a stop. The side door squeals open, and some guy grabs beneath my arms and hauls me out like I’m an inanimate object.
“Be careful with her,” someone grits from the outside. He promises death to whomever doesn’t obey, and the hands on me become lighter. That voice. I haven’t heard it this dark before, but it’s familiar.
“Sorry, man. Just getting her out.”
“Take her to my bedroom.”
What? No!
I’m being rocked up a set of stairs. Instinct tells me to fake unconsciousness, but I can’t help squinting an eye open. A small window displays a glimpse of what could be the skyline above the San Francisco Bay.
A morsel of hope hits me. Besides L.A., San Francisco is the city I know best. I have friends here. I’d know where to hide if I escaped. What I need to do is calm down, find out what I’m working with. Clearly, these people don’t want to kill me. They would have done so already if that were the case. So—
What do they want from me?
As they lower me on a bed, I cut my worrying short; everything’s wrong with what’s happening right now, and I can’t allow my brain to lose focus.
“Hmm,” I hear over me. I feel myself tense, and a chuckle erupts from whoever’s above me. “You’re not all that unconscious, are you?”
A finger strokes along my temple. The muscles around my eyes tremble before I give up and open them… to look straight at John Himmel, my lab partner in Biology.
“You?” I breathe, and when I inhale, it sounds like a gasp.
“Hello, my dear.” He folds his hands, wiggling them while getting comfortable.
The fear in my bones shoots my senses into high gear. In seconds, I have him cataloged in ways I’ve never bothered before. His scent: fresh pine. A lot of it. His looks: blond hair, slender build, long muscles contouring hard biceps under a short-sleeved shirt with a crocodile on it. Lacoste? Right, he always wears brand names. Classically handsome, he’d be angelic if it weren’t for the contempt in his gaze.
“You know what I don’t like?”
“What’s that, John.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t like to be turned down.”
“Are you shitting me? That’s why I’m here right now, because you don’t like to be turned down?”
He chuckles again, and a slight tinge at the surface of his laughter reminds me of the sunny guy I did experiments with in class. “Well, let’s just say my father and I got to collaborate on something for once.”
“Who are you?” I want to shout the question, but it turns into a croak. The energy I put into it strikes like lightning between my eyebrows.
He shrugs before sitting down on the bed at the level of my hips. He’s much too close. “You know who I am: John Ulrich Himmel, Biology student at Diamond University. I love having Silvina di Nascimbeni as my lab partner. I cra-ave it.” Playful, he rolls his eyes back a little. I have a feeling I won’t like his jokes as much as I used to. “Sorry about what’s happening in Hidden Hills, by the way.”
“What do you have to do with what’s happening at my uncle’s house?” It’s hard to sound fierce when you’re not.
He tips his head to the side. “His house? According to your sister, it’s more of a bunker, right? A safe house. Too bad we’re fucking it up down there.”
“Too bad you can’t be a part of that,” I say.
“Oh, I’m good. I’ve got my role. I wanted you, and I got you. You’re my present.” He rubs his hands together like some cartoon character. It could have been funny. “I bet you’re wondering what you’re doing in my bed.”
I can’t stop my nod.
He smiles. “I’m gonna let you wonder for a little bit. Okay? You’ll get to rest. For what I want, I need you nice and clean, though, so take a shower.” He play-wrinkles his nose. It could have been cute.
“I don’t understand. Is there a new mafia in town? The Himmel mob from Germany or something, that’s in the pockets of the Santa Colombini? Because from what I saw, the fools invading Nascimbeni property were Santa Colombini.”
He laughs. It’s soft, affected, maybe meant to be sexy. It’s a sound that makes me want to throw up.
“No, no, pretty Silvina. I am Santa Colombini. My mother is Damiana Santa Colombini, daughter of Amedeo Santa Colombini. Ever heard of him?” He tilts his head, peering at me. It makes me think of birds of prey. I suppress a shiver.
“Yeah, that’s right. My grandfather died in the most gruesome of ways at the hands of someone you hold dear. Anyways.” He acts like he’s shrugging it off though it’s obvious he in no way takes this lightly. “My mother married a
German, hence my blond hair, blue eyes, and infamous last name.”
“Wunderbar.”
“Always so funny. Hey, don’t you wish we’d hit it off better in class, now?”
I think about it. “Would it have changed anything?”
“I like to think it would. I see it.” He fans out a hand, waving it between us while staring at it. “Your cousin wouldn’t have punched me and made me look like an idiot in front of my guys. I would’ve made you my girlfriend. Of course, I would’ve gently talked you into getting us inside the Nascimbeni bunker, but I wouldn’t have had to hurt your sister for it.
“Don’t worry about her, though. No one showed her any lovin’. I wanted to save the good stuff for my girl, and you’re finally that.” The exhale he lets out sounds relieved.
“I’m what?”
“My girl.” Mediterranean blues send me a duh look. “Ah, finally, I get to do whatever I want with you, and by the time I’m done, you’ll be so in love you’ll beg me to marry you.”
I can only stare at him.
He bursts out laughing, and for a blessed moment, I think he’s kidding. Until he says, “Oh, my darling. I love surprising you. Here you thought I was some pussy you could boss around in the lab. Oh, no. I’ll be showing you a whole new type of biology experiment. Welcome to the world of John Ulrich Himmel.”
16. SILVER DAWN
GIOELE
The Santa Colombini demolish Il Lince’s safe house room by room. For each space they pass, they blast up beds, nightstands, and cabinets. They blow pictures off the walls. I peer into ravaged rooms on my way past, watch feathers fly from destroyed duvets.
This needs to be over. I need all Santa Colombini in on this stiff and gone—with the exception of one. A single one. I need one hostage, and it has to be the right person, someone who can lead me to Silvina.
The dog park is the last stop before the end of the corridor. With our enemies in the bunker with us, I see what a death trap Il Lince has constructed here. The bomb shelter is a dead end. There’s no way out, no tunnel leading to safety. The only option is to fend off whoever’s on the outside.