Page 32 of Loathe Me (Touch of Death 1)
The distant wail of fire engines can be heard in the distance, and people stop, getting out of their cars as though they could possibly do anything to help. The men inside are long dead.
I turn left onto a back road, heading back to Adelina. It’s done. Enrique Bianchi is dead.
10
Adelina
Listening intently, I wait for the front door to click shut before I move. Stretching as far as my restraints allow, I reach for the nightstand. Just a little further. My wrist screams in protest as I strain against the metal cuff, but I manage to reach the drawer and the face cream inside. One final lunge and I snag the bottle, but It feels like all my joints pop at the same time.
I slather the lotion around the cuff, working it underneath the metal. I take my time, working it millimeter by precious millimetre. The widest part of my hand is of course the most difficult, and I grit my teeth when the I feel the delicate bones strain and squeeze together. But the sweet relief of freedom is worth the pain.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel smug right now. Men have a tendency to underestimate me- Sasha certainly isn’t the first. Daddy once tried to handcuff me in my room to keep me from seeing a boy. I didn’t even like the boy that much; I just wanted to rebel. The more my father tried to stop me, the more determined I was to defy him. I really thought Sasha was starting to trust me a little. I grab my pre-packed bag from under the bed where I stashed it.
Sasha is going after Enrique Bianchi. He may not have said it, but I’m not stupid. I grew up in a mafia family, and I know how it works. We’re in Sicily, the stronghold of the Bianchi family. I saw him loading weapons in the car earlier. And he’s a killer tasked with protecting me. The logical conclusion is that he’s going to kill Enrique. I can’t imagine any other reason for me to bring me to Sicily; endanger me to protect me. I’m not sure how that will play out with my family, but personally, it’s a win-win. Enrique dies, then I’m no longer part of some pre-historic marriage pact, and I don’t need that Russian psychopath watching me like an errant child. Daddy will be able to come home. Gabi won’t have to sacrifice herself, and everything will be as it should.
Sasha’s current pre-occupation also means I can now get to my sister, hopefully before she does something stupid. He may kill Enrique, but if I know the Bianchi’s, it won’t be that straight forward. They’re powerful, bordering on untouchable. Until that man is confirmed dead, I’m at risk, and Gabi will sacrifice herself to save me. I know she will. She’s been doing it our entire lives.
I now have a few hours head start to get back home to Mondello. And I know I’ll need it. I fully expect Sasha to hunt me down like a dog with a scent.
The alarm goes off, startling me; I had no idea he’d fixed it. I hurry to the garage and try to pull the front panel off the box, but it’s sealed shut. Damn it. Scrambling around, I find a toolbox and try to open it in the hope of finding a hammer. It’s locked, so I panic and pick up the entire steel box. It’s heavy, but I lift it, and swing it back, driving it into the plastic on the wall. I have to smash it three times, but finally, the alarm cuts out. It likely alerted his phone, which means I have to move fast.
I jog through the house and out the front door. The driveway winds down a hillside that seems to go on forever. The road is illuminated by the silvery gray of the moon, and it would be tranquil if it weren’t for the adrenaline firing through my veins. Cicadas chirp in the nearby long grass, and the occasional firefly buzzes past. The scent of jasmine blends with the subtle smoke of a distant bonfire. I inhale it all deep into my lungs, embracing the sense of freedom I’ve been so sorely deprived of. At the bottom of the hill, I see signs of civilization and other houses. The tiny villas are dotted along the sparse road, their driveways winding off like roots from a tree. I spot a car parked in front of a garage and debate stealing it but decide against it. It’s too rural out here, and an engine sputtering to life won’t go unnoticed.
Carrying on, I jog down the road until the streets become busier. People pass as they go about their evening, couples walk hand in hand, and friends laugh as they make their way to dinner. I feel like a dead girl walking, a ghost roaming amongst the living, envious of their care-free night. I want to go home to my family, eat dinner with them, kiss them goodnight. Instead, I’m running away from my bodyguard as he tries to hunt down the man that wants to force me into marriage. All while chasing my sister to try and convince her not to offer herself into said marriage. Oh, and my father is hiding like a coward. I try to be understanding, but as the days go on, I find myself more resentful of Daddy. No part of me understands how he can sit back and allow any of this to happen.
