Chapter Three
I followed Vincenzo back to his villa, this task weighing so heavily on my mind like a cloak of iron.
I was following his car but all I had on my mind was revenge, he was a minute away but I had to be patient. Lucky me for using my mothers maiden name otherwise my surname would have jingled something.
The man who had earlier been taken into the hospital was now wheeled into an exclusive clinic deep within Vincenzo's estate, where secrets were concealed as easily as corpses.
As my car crested the long, sweeping driveway, the massive shape of his villa rose before us in the darkness, its stone façade lit by the eerie light of garden lamps.
The estate stretched out in unspoken mastery, an empire forged in blood and strength. I stepped out of the car, my sharp eyes scanning as the night air enveloped me cold and fresh like a warning whisper.
Inside the clinic, the sterility smell of antiseptic hung on the air, mingling with the faint, unmistakable scent of blood. The walls were white, too white, as if trying to cover up the savagery that had brought us there.
The man was cold on the table, his flesh a battered palette, torn muscles, jagged wounds, and the tell-tale signs of a battle that no one should have survived.
The entry wound just beneath his left shoulder blade had been treated at the hospital already, but the danger lay under the surface.
Dark bruises spread out from the cut, swelling and indicating that he was bleeding internally. The deep slash down his side was worse, ragged and open.
Whoever had attacked him had meant to kill him.
I took slow breaths, my head clear and thinking. This wasn't an accident. This was a fight that had been abandoned.
Rolling my sleeves up, I began. The operation light shone its brassy light onto the oily red of exposed tissue as I repaired what had been destroyed.
My fingers wove with unshakeable routine, each stitch carrying me a little bit further in here, further into Vincenzo's territory.
And he observed me.
I did not have to look up to feel the weight of his stare. It was piercing and critical, the kind of gaze that measured a person's worth in silence.
There was something about being stared at this way that disturbed me, but I would not be shaken.
I just focused on the rhythm of the motion, on the effortless movement of my hands. I was being extremely careful, I had to prove to him that I was brought here by the hospital because I was the best.
I could not afford to destroy the future of my plans. I was not here accidentally, I was karma and I had finally caught up with Vincenzo.
By the time I finished, the man's vitals were steady, and the room was too still to bear. I ripped off my gloves and turned to find Vincenzo looking at me with blank eyes. He did not speak, merely a slow, approving nod.
This was definitely a test, then. And I had passed.
I packed up my things, and the weight of the night descended upon me. This was it. I'd gone down a road from which there was no turning back, and soon enough, I'd be too far gone to turn around.
...….
The drive home was quiet, but not my mind. My heart rate remained steady, but beneath it, a tension coiled in my chest, tightening with each passing moment.
The city lights blurred by the windshield, their glow streaking through the night like gold, but I barely noticed. My head was too tangled, too rough. I needed to talk to Vito.
The air at night was cool as I stepped out of the car. I drew my coat closer around me and put the phone to my ear and dialed him. The line cleared after a single ring.
I cut straight to it, telling him everything, the recommendation, Vincenzo's proposition and the timing. It was too good to be true.
Vito was silent on the other end, his breathing steady in the distance, a sign that he was on the move. There was a silent moment between us before he spoke at last, his voice carrying an edge I couldn't quite identify.
"What a coincidence, and yet, a pleasant one. Fate made it a lot easier for us and now we can proceed to phase two.
Stay close to him, and let me know what you need." He said.
A ghost of a smile appeared on my lips. "Be ready. You will be receiving plenty of work.".
I ended the call, but a creepy unease crawled beneath my skin. It was a strange feeling, one that I couldn't shake, no matter how much I tried.
...….
By the time I reached home, the air in my flat was still. The sweet, comforting scent of coffee and old books hung in the air, embracing me warmly.
Further away, the dull hum of the streetlights filtered through the curtains, casting shifting shadows on the walls, stretching the furniture into strange, misshapen forms.
I exhaled slowly, attempting to roll my shoulders to banish the lingering tension. It did not work.
Something felt off.
The moment I turned on the light, I gasped.
Lounging on my couch, his black suit unwrinkled, legs crossed in casual grace, was my uncle.
His presence dominated the room without making a single gesture, an unspoken authority of command draped in subdued menace.
His sharp, intelligent eyes drilled into mine, their intensity heavy with unspoken meaning. His face held no anger, no particular show of displeasure, just a patience more disturbing than any yelling.
Ice-cold fear crept into my belly, slow and insidious.