Page 127 of Valentino

Enzo listens without moving. Not his mouth. Not his hands. Only his eyes shift to me for one second before returning to the man.

He says one word. "Sì."

The man straightens, and Enzo stands slowly, one hand on his knee. He buttons his jacket. Smooths the front.

My chest loosens with a sick kind of certainty.

"Wait," I say.

He doesn't look at me.

"Wait. What did he say?"

The translator says nothing.

The door opens again behind me, and boots cross the tile. Two men. Maybe three.

Then I know.

Before I see him, I know.

"No."

It comes out too small.

They bring Valentino in with his hands tied behind his back, his shirt still clean, his jaw set. His eyes find mine the second he crosses the threshold.

"No," I say again, louder this time. "Valentino, no. What are you doing?"

He keeps walking.

Two men hold his arms, but they aren't dragging him. They don't have to. He walks like he chose this, because he did.

He looks at me the whole way. There's no mystery in his face, no hidden message. Just the terrible certainty that he knows exactly what's about to happen and has already accepted it.

His mouth lifts at one corner.

Soft. For me.

Goodbye.

"No."

I'm crying before I know it. My face is wet, and my throat makes a sound I don't recognize. Too raw to be a word.

"Valentino, no."

The tears blur him. I blink, and he's only a shape moving toward Enzo. I blink again, and his back is to me.

I throw myself forward. The rope catches, and the chair tips onto its front legs, stopping hard enough to jar my teeth.

"Please."

I look at Enzo because Valentino won't turn around.

"Please don't kill him."

My voice breaks. I hear it happen. I don't care.