My escape plan was intact.
The car was parked in a lot that didn't open for hours.
I needed to lay low, but I couldn't wander the streets of Brookhaven. I'd been photographed too often next to my dad.
My face splashed the newspapers whenever we buried a family member, which meant even street thugs recognized me.
The five thousand in cash was in my bag. I'd have to make it stretch until Linden Falls.
Dad read my credit card statements and had access to my accounts. A notification would pop up in his email as soon as I bought something.
I exited the taxi and descended to the subway, escaping the growing darkness.
I switched lines at random and mingled with the rush-hour traffic. There was safety in numbers, but my father's men would find me.
They'd check the bus and train stations, the airport, and the metro. The junkyard didn't open until ten.
Where could I go to wait?
My back was stiff from hours of sitting. The riders dwindled to a handful before I changed trains and headed toward Solstice Bay, where Vittorio lived.
She was my on-again-off-again fling—the only mafioso I stomached. I'd run the gamut of wise guys, and they tended to stick between cruel and dumb.
Most never finished high school. Some of the older ones, the ones from huge families who relied on every working hand, never dabbled in public education.
Vittorio was an obnoxious ass for telling everyone about us, but I was safe with her.
Fifteen minutes later, I approached her apartment.
Vittorio sat on her porch, drinking. She had a bad habit of hanging outside, gun in her lap like a goddamned sheriff. I discouraged her against being a target for the Lombardis, but Vittorio had patted my head as though she found my concern adorable.
She was my age, fair-haired, and good-looking in the traditional sense. She respected my boundaries, even when my father wasn't there to destroy her.
She waved at me as I crossed the street. Then she drained her glass and rushed to greet me.
"Hey." She enveloped me in a bear hug and rubbed my back. "I haven't seen you since the memorial. How are you?"
"Not great."
"I guess you wouldn't be. Come." Her sympathetic smile transformed into a rakish grin. "I'll make you feel better. At least for a little while."
God, I wasn't supposed to be here.
I allowed her to pull me into her brownstone. Usually, we get only a few steps inside before ripping each other's clothes off. Vittorio pushed me against the wall, her gaze heavy.
Giovanna's warning burned in my mind, consuming any desire. Before her lips touched mine, I palmed her chest.
"That's not why I came. I'm in trouble."
Vittorio hesitated, her smirk still intact. "Whatever it is, it can't be that horrible."
"Trust me. It's bad. Can we sit?"
"Sure."
Frowning, she took my hand and led me into her house, a sparsely decorated bachelor pad with only the essentials.
Aside from a table and a sofa, she had zero furniture and didn't seem to give a damn about decorating. I couldn't imagine sleeping on that camp bed every night or living in this barebones apartment, but I'd never asked for more from our relationship. Neither had she.
On some level, we must've known this wouldn't last. Which was probably why she didn't flinch with my next words.
"Vittorio, I have to leave."
"Yeah?" She hunkered near the window, scanning the glistening streets. "Where are you going?"
It wouldn't do any good to tell her. "I don't know. I have to go before they—before my dad forces me to marry her. Giovanna Lombardi."
A fresh wave of misery hit me when she shot upright, hands balled at her sides.
"You're kidding." In seconds, her attitude shifted from nonchalant to furious. "Shit, Mia. We've been messing around while you're with her?"
"No, we haven't. I'm not a cheater…she was my sister's fiancée. It was an arranged marriage. A peace offering to the Lombardis. When she died, I thought it was over. Now everyone seems to think I'm marrying her, and I have no choice. They expect me to walk down the aisle with a woman who terrifies me. No fucking way."
Vittorio was silent, her young face reflecting shock.
A stab of pity nagged at me as she rubbed her neck, mouth agape.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't put this on you. Coming here was selfish. I wouldn't have, but there's nobody else. Please, help me. Please. I don't want to be her wife."
"Ignacio must be searching for you."
A fist-sized lump bulged in my throat at the mention of my father. He was sobbing when I left, and I never even said goodbye to Mom.
How was she taking my absence?
"I need somewhere to stay for a few hours."
I quieted the storm in my head as Vittorio absorbed everything with hardening features. She'd never been cold around me, but her withdrawal was almost palpable, as though she'd walked out of the room.
"You should leave."
I must've heard wrong. "What?"
"Go to her. There's nothing I can do. Even if I wanted to fuck with Lombardi, you won't get ten miles. She'll catch you, and then she'll make an example out of me. I wish I could do something, but...you're screwed."
"She won't find me. I've planned this for months. I just need somewhere to lay low."
"Lombardi won't allow you to disappear." Vittorio wheeled to my side, her lips set in a grim line. "If you'd have let me ask your father for permission, we'd be more than a fling. Perhaps that would've been enough to keep you out of Lombardi's hands. Now we'll never know."
"Vittorio, come on. How could I have known this would happen?"
"You were always going to belong to someone. Sorry, Mia." Vittorio slipped a phone from her pocket. "I can't help you."
I glanced at the screen. "What are you doing?"
"If you don't go, I'm calling your dad."
"Don't!" I made a grab for the cell, but she lifted it out of reach. "Vittorio!"
"You're not leaving me much choice. Ignacio will realize you were here. If something happens to you—"
"—what do you think he'll do when he finds out you were dating me?"
"Maybe he'll beat the shit out of me. Frankly, I'm more worried about Lombardi."
Great—even Vittorio was scared of her.
"Vittorio, please. I'll leave. Don't call my dad."
"Fine." She closed her phone, her brows knitting with sympathy. "I really am sorry, but you have to go."
The one woman I trusted would rather sell me out. I shouldn't have expected anything less.
My shoulder collided with hers as I bolted from the living room and blazed down the steps, flying into a pitch-black street.
A tall figure lounged by a car, texting.
She buried her phone in her slacks and pushed off the BMW. Her suit bled into the darkness as she stepped into my path.
The smile carving into her cheeks stole my hope.
Giovanna.
"Found you."