In passing, Rock patted Lupo’s shoulder, then he was escorted out by the guard, who let Quintilius in a few seconds later.
“Is everything all right?” Quintilius asked.
Lupo smiled at his father, then directed the conversation to safer topics. He didn’t want to worry him, and he couldn’t have talked in any case, so he asked about the rest of the family instead.
Later in the afternoon, as soon as he was given the hour break, he ran to the courtyard and confided the surreal conversation to Paride.
“What do you think it’s all about?” Paride asked.
“I have no idea.”
“You have powerful enemies.”
“It seems I do.” Lupo scratched his head. “When Rico mentioned the panthers I thought he was messing with me.” He had been thinking about, and although it sounded farfetched, he only knew of one family of panthers who could be so angry at him to want him dead. “The Purists are rich and powerful enough to pull something like this off.”
“You think Jasmine’s parents are behind Tancredi’s change of heart?”
“Who else? They have motive—”
“It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t want to kill her.”
“Were I in their place, I would probably want myself dead.” Lupo had thought about that, to being in their shoes, and he could understand their hatred. If Jasmine had been killed by someone else’s carelessness, he would have hunted them down and ripped them to pieces.
“It doesn’t make it right.”
“Right doesn’t resuscitate Jasmine, but vengeance gives you peace.”
Paride let the comment pass, then said, “What are you going to do?”
Lupo shrugged. “I’ll watch my back.”
He followed his own suggestion, but nothing happened that night, or on any of the nights and days that followed, leaving him with a dreadful feeling that never left him.
****
Day after day, he served his sentence, isolated in the dungeon’s bowels most of the time, but eager to join the rest of the prison for the hour in the courtyard. There, he would chat with Paride, and even take part in the mixed martial arts matches that replaced rugby when the weather became milder.
Not many inmates dared to fight against him, but once in a while, one cocky thug—usually fresh meat just arrived—thought he could bring Lupo down and challenge him. When that happened, it always made Lupo’s day. He would let the opponent believe he could best him, and played with the poor sod, exposing his body to hits he could have easily avoided. In part, Lupo wanted to experience the pain to numb the void that had spread from his chest to the rest of him.
But, besides a temporary relief, taking a beating never helped, and he would finish the match with a well-executed punch or kick. After the fifth of his opponents was brought to the infirmary with a concussion and several broken bones, the other inmates became too leery to accept a match with him.
“What about a good fight between you and me?” Paride asked one afternoon, after Lupo had entered the makeshift cage consisting of a circle made on the cobblestones with a white charcoal.
Nobody had come forward to accept Lupo’s challenge, and he was in need of venting some steam. He knew Paride had just come to his rescue by asking for a fight, and was grateful to his friend. “Let’s see what you can do.” He smiled and made a come-hither gesture.
Among weary cheers and a few whistles, Paride approached Lupo, tapped his fisted knuckles against his, then retreated a step to assume a fighting position. Feet planted firmly on the ground, legs spread, knees slightly bent, Paride lowered his center of gravity, and raised his fists, arms close to his body.
“This is going to be fun.” Lupo mirrored Paride’s stance, then attacked. He wouldn’t disrespect his friend by not giving him his absolute best.
The puma’s eyes lit with enthusiasm as he moved left and avoided Lupo’s upper jab. He countered with a punch from the right, and it was Lupo who smiled when Paride’s fist connected with his torso, bruising his ribs.
Hopping on his bare feet, Lupo cracked his neck to the side. “This is fun.” His roundhouse kick brushed Paride’s jaw, as he had meant to, then he followed with a blow that hit Paride’s solar plexus, its true target.
Paride staggered backward and swore under his breath, then shook his head and straightened himself to a fighting stance. “Is that the best you can do?” He jumped high to equal Lupo’s height, then propelled his body higher only to descend upon Lupo and chop with both hands at his head.
A loud ring resonated inside Lupo’s ears and he lost balance. Paride took advantage of his disorientation and threw upper and lower jabs at his face and torso. It took Lupo a moment to regain his footing, but when he did he charged against the puma with all his body and sent his friend to the ground. Lupo punched him once on his jaw, then grabbed his hand and helped Paride up.
The crowd, silent until a moment before, erupted in loud cheers. They were mainly for Paride, but Lupo was happy nevertheless.
“Thank you.” He clasped the puma’s hand and patted his shoulder.
“Anytime.” Paride reciprocated the gesture, then wiped a trickle of blood from his split lip.
Lupo’s face too was swollen in places, and he wiped some blood away from under his eye. His right side hurt, his knuckles were injured, and he couldn’t wait for a repeat performance.
After that first sparring session with Paride, others followed, until a second circle was drawn on the ground for them. People gathered around to study their movements and learn from their techniques, and often asked to be trained by either Lupo or Paride.
Lupo grew fond of the courtyard breaks, and eagerly waited for them as much as he looked forward to his parents’ and friends’ visits.
The cold winter passed, and one day the bright colors and fresh smells of a new spring tickled Lupo’s senses while he helped one of the inmates with his judo rolls. Startled, he realized that the moment he had waited for had arrived. His three hundred and sixty five days of penance had finally come to an end.
Chapter Thirteen
One year had passed.
Lupo didn’t know how he had done it, but he had survived Jasmine’s death and twelve months in prison.
Today, he was a free man.
At seven o’ clock, the were-bobcat arrived with the breakfast tray. “Your last meal at Regina Coeli,” he said with a smile.
“I’m not hungry.” Lupo pushed the tray away. He hadn’t slept, but spent the whole night trying to summon his imaginary Jasmine. She had never come back to him, despite the fact he had kept contacting her for months.
“Understandable.” The guard took the breakfast back to the cafeteria, then reappeared a few minutes later. “Follow me.”
They walked the whole length of the dungeon, and passed several inmates’ cells, the men barely sparing a word for him. Then they climbed the stairs to the ground floor, where Lupo was admitted into a dressing room. There, the guard gave Lupo his civilian clothes, the ones he had worn the night he was taken into custody, and stayed in the room while Lupo changed.
Once naked, Lupo deposited his old jumper into the man’s hands, then proceeded to put on his faded jeans, white button-down shirt, and suit jacket. The clothes were a reminder of the night of the trial, and he hated them.
“Feeling better already, ah?” the guard commented as Lupo struggled to pull up his jeans that were tight on his thighs.
Without answering, Lupo inserted his arms into the shirt’s sleeves, and the fabric stretched on his back. He had to leave the buttons on his chest open because it looked like the shirt had shrunk one or two sizes. When it came to the jacket, Lupo didn’t even try to fit in it, but grabbed the tie and wound it around his neck, leaving its ends dangling in front.
The guard passed him his shoes, and Lupo sat on the bench by the wall to wear them. Even lowering himself to the cushion proved to be unpleasant as his clothes constricted him and he couldn’t breathe.
“For on
e who’s regaining his freedom today, you don’t seem that happy.” The guard shrugged, then opened the dressing room and pointed outside. “This way to collect your personal items.”
They entered a smaller room, where a man sitting behind a glass wall pushed a plastic bag under a rectangular opening. Lupo grabbed the bag and eyed its contents. A cracked watch and a black leather wallet were the only items inside. After counting three euros and change, plus a hard candy that had become one with its transparent wrapper, he pocketed the wallet—a gift from Rock—then slipped the watch on his wrist.
“Good luck, and I hope I’ll never see you again,” the guard said, opening the external gate for him.
“Likewise.” Lupo lowered his head to clear the gate, then walked toward the two men who were waiting for him outside Regina Coeli.
The sun was bright and the morning warm. No longer used to walking in the city, Lupo choked on a lump that lodged in his throat. The cobblestones under his leather soles were hard, and the sounds too loud. Cars and motorcycles whizzed by. Dizziness overcame Lupo, but two strong arms rescued him from falling.
“Dad.” He hugged Quintilius, then turned toward Ludwig and reached out for him. “Dad,” he said to the angel as well, inviting him to share the embrace.
Lupo held both of them in a group hug for a long moment, then Ludwig said, “It’s so good to have you back.”
Lupo wasn’t good with words, but managed to reply, “It’s good to see you.”
“We have so much to talk about, and everyone is waiting for you at home.” Releasing himself, Quintilius smiled. “Let’s get out of here,” and led Lupo to his Jaguar parked a short walk from the prison’s walls.
Ludwig insisted Lupo sat in the front with Quintilius, then they left the shadow of Regina Coeli and merged into the Roman traffic. Quintilius and Ludwig chatted the whole ride, their enthusiasm contagious, even though Lupo’s heart was fighting a war with itself. He wanted to be happy, mostly because it would make his parents happy, but the outside world was where Jasmine had died, and he found it hard to reconcile the two sentiments.
When they reached Casolare del Lupo, it was evident his homecoming had been taken seriously. Waiting for them outside of the house, a group of people cheered when the Jaguar stopped before the large staircase leading to the wraparound porch.
All their friends had gathered before the entrance. Camelia was the first to step down to welcome Lupo. She was slow in descending the first step, but didn’t use crutches and kept her chin high while she smiled at him. Lupo met her halfway on the stairs and hugged her.
“You look fantastic,” he said to her. His wasn’t a polite compliment.
“I’m stronger.” She tilted her head to the side, studying him. “And you look bigger.” Patting his arm, she laughed. The sound was a novelty coming from her, and it was beautiful. “You are definitely bigger.”
“I’ve been exercising,” Lupo answered, then saw that the people behind were waiting for their turn to greet him. “Come here.” He waved at them, and let the whole lot descend upon him for a deluge of hugs, kisses, and words of affection.
Only months before meeting Quintilius and Ludwig, he had hoped to find a family among the Reds. Now, he had a real family, parents who loved him, and friends who had never left him alone during his ordeal that lasted a year.
If only Jasmine had been by his side, his life would have been perfect.
Raphael and Luisa pushed through the crowd to reach him, and they weren’t alone. The Drako Del Sarto triplets were jumping up and down in their arms. Raphael had Darius and Serses, the two boys were impossible to set apart, and Luisa held Arianna whose eyes lit when she saw Lupo.
“Hi, Luisa,” he said, then smiled at the little girl. “Hi, Arianna.”
“Woofie!” Arianna, all black curls and dimples, threw herself at Lupo.
He caught her and swung her around, eliciting giggles from the small girl. “How can she remember me?” he wondered out loud. The kids hadn’t seen him for a year.
“She will be the death of me with her shifter-obsession, I swear,” Alexander Drako said, moving down from his perch on the balustrade.
Ravenna Del Sarto, his companion and mother of the triplets, remained a step behind, but bestowed a radiant smile upon Lupo who couldn’t help but to smile back. “We have pictures of you on our fireplace mantle—”
“You have pictures of me?” Lupo asked, his eyebrow high on his forehead.
“Of course we do. We have pictures of all our friends and their kids,” Ravenna answered, with a slight tilt of her chin, as if his had been a strange question.
Lupo remembered pictures being taken at the impromptu Christmas party in prison.
“Anyway, she talks to you, every day.” Drako leaned to give Arianna a peck on her crown. “Isn’t it true, princess, that you tell woofie stories?”
“Yes.” Arianna nodded proudly, her curls cascading all over her face and shoulders. “Sleep-good stories. Take you with me. Always.”
“That’s true,” Drako confirmed. “She steals the frame with your picture and takes it to her room, every single night.”
“Will you tell me a sleep-good story later?” Lupo gave her back to Luisa.
“Yes, woofie,” Arianna said, while she gave Luisa a hug and a wet kiss.
“How do you feel?” Raphael asked, balancing the boys who wanted to escape his arms to jump at Lupo as their sister had.
“I’m good. I guess.” Lupo took first one, then the other in his arms. “Hi, Darius.” Not knowing who was who, he waited for Darius to react to his greeting, then turned to the other kid. “Hi, Serses.”
The twins started talking at the same time, and Lupo couldn’t understand what they were saying. It was all, “Woofie, play. Ball. Us. Fun.”
“Wait, slow down!” Lupo laughed at the kids’ exuberance. He remembered they had been a force to reckon with when he had been a guest at their house, but now they were unstoppable.
“I’ll get them, so you can talk.” Drako extricated the boys from Lupo’s arms, one at a time.
Lupo caught Quintilius looking at him from the landing above. The expression on his father’s face was at the same time sweet and sad, but then Ludwig whispered something to him and Quintilius nodded and smiled at Lupo.
“Who wants to eat something?” Quintilius asked the group at large, and Lupo’s stomach roared for the amusement of the ones standing by.
Later, after a brunch that had filled one of the biggest tables in the mansion with Lupo’s favorite food, the group of friends left so that he could rest.
Only then, his fathers followed by Camelia approached him again.
“Come, we want to show you what we’ve been working on for the last six months.” Ludwig opened his arm to the side, indicating the hallway that led toward the private apartments.
Both Quintilius and Ludwig had given Lupo frequent updates on the wing they were building for him, but it still came as a pleasant surprise when he entered his apartment.
“Do you like it?” Quintilius asked, from the domed entry.
Lupo walked to the middle of the foyer. “It’s perfect.”
The place was simple and masculine. Bricks and wooden beams, terracotta tiles on the floor, black light fixtures, whitewashed walls, and arched windows that filled an entire side of the foyer and opened to a garden in bloom.
Blinking, he went to the French doors by the windows, and opened one of the panels. A floral scent was mixed with fresh cut grass and resin from the Mediterranean pine trees.
“That’s Jasmine’s arboretum.” Camelia walked to him and stood by his side.
“It’s beautiful.” Lupo didn’t know if Jasmine would have liked the garden, they had been together only for a spell, but he wanted to think so. And his imaginary Jasmine had told him so. That counted.
Pushing the panel, Camelia stepped out of the French doors and made a sign for him to follow her.
Ludwig and Quintilius gave him an encouraging
smile, and Lupo advanced toward a marble bench where Camelia sat, facing a pastoral sight. She patted the surface beside her.
In silence, Lupo joined her, then took a good look at the place.
A pond of crystalline water was surrounded by big boulders on which fleshy succulents grew. A wrought iron gazebo overlooked the garden from a ridge lined with rows of lavender. Lupo closed his eyes and listened to the chirps of grasshoppers and croaks of toads. A gust of wind caressed his face and it transported the scent of orange blossoms from an orchard nearby.
“In a month or two, the lavender bushes will attract butterflies, thousands of them, and bees. The whole garden will buzz with life,” she said, making him open his eyes.
“Thank you for doing this for me.” Lupo took her hand and squeezed it.
“You are the son I’ve never had. I’d do anything in my power to make you happy again.” She leaned her head against his shoulder.
“You are not alone,” she whispered, and he was about to ask why she had said that, when he heard the steps muted by the grass.
His parents stood a few steps behind, as if guarding him, and he felt their warmth wrapping his heart like a soft blanket.
Chapter Fourteen
The first day at Casolare del Lupo was a whirlwind of emotions for Lupo. When the night came, he entered his bedroom and sat on the black leather loveseat facing his bed. Looking around at the sleek furniture, he clapped his hands to dim the light, and wondered if he would ever get used to the luxury his new life afforded him.
He had been Lupo Solis for so long, he found it hard to believe he could ever be anything else. Yet, at the same time, he was eager to integrate himself in his fathers’ lives, starting with working with Quintilius at his shipping company.
The next morning, the alarm clock went off, and found him wide awake.
For the second night in a row, Lupo didn’t rest. In prison, he hadn’t slept well. Thoughts of Jasmine always kept him on edge, and he had never relaxed, fearing retaliation from the other inmates, but he had snoozed for two or three hours at a time. Forgoing sleep for two full nights made him lightheaded, but a mix of excitement and worry had kept him awake.
Lupo (The Immortals Book 8) Page 9