“I-I don’t understand what you are saying,” almost cried the victim I wasn’t leaving without, even if my best friend was having some sort of mental breakdown.
I whispered to Angelo, “I’m here, my friend. Please hear my voice.”
Trees were a blur as I raced us away, using all the training Pietro and Cristian provided me. The wheels spun underneath us, gripping the road with expertise. I realized it wasn’t only the beauty of the car that had lured me into buying it. It was the power and control it could offer when needing to speed away, safely, from the danger we left behind.
It was no surprise Scarlett fainted once Angelo told her that her mother was alive. What was a surprise was her waking as Angelo was carrying her through the kitchen. The money had been transferred. We were almost out of the horrendous house I would never forget…
“You had no choice but to strike her, Angelo.”
In the backseat, Scarlett slept in Angelo’s arms as his eyes slid shut with such regret that I felt it in the driver’s seat. I had seen Angelo do many things, but never had he hit or harmed a woman.
He had had no choice. Scarlett was too telling, giving away too much information when begging Angelo to bring her son with us.
Yes. Her son.
The Devil’s spawn.
My hands tightened on the steering wheel, even though I was trained to do the opposite. “That demon child? Could he really be hers?”
Angelo leaned his head back against the headrest. “She seemed most convinced.” His eyes finally opened and stared at the blurring trees. “We are safe now. You can slow down.”
I didn’t. I couldn’t. “Lorenzo was in a photograph on the wall.”
Angelo glared into the review mirror.
I nodded and grimaced. “He was naked.” I chin-gestured to Scarlett. “So was she.”
My best friend tried to pull away from me, sink into a seat that offered no escape.
“They were, my friend.”
Veins bulged in his neck. “Stop it.”
He was right. We needed a different subject. We had just left women, young men, and children, just to save one. It was wrong and unjust, but we felt bound to our duty and promises to save and keep Scarlett safe. Angelo had asked for Isabella’s blessings to protect Scarlett. That mother had accepted, and now was asking us to fulfill that vow.
God, please forgive me.
The car picked up speed, and we were leaving them all behind.
“Angelo, that girl with the grey eyes, what did she mean by Steel Stallions?”
After Scarlett woke up and begged for her son, the young woman that was tied to the stove whispered, “Steel Stallions.”
“I have no clue.” Angelo exhaled a shaky breath. “Sal,” he paused, “thank you for… helping me in the basement.”
“Do you know what happened? Why she enraptured you like that?”
Instead of answering me, he asked a question, but that question was the answer. “Sal, am I really holding her?” Disbelief.
To help convince him of something I was also struggling with, I finally eased my foot off the gas pedal. I had to find the strength to trust my heart and skill, acknowledging we finally had some distance between us and the enemy. I had to believe, for once, we hadn’t failed.
Opening the backseat door to help Angelo with Scarlett, I saw the remains of her vomit clinging to the side of the seat. It was only one sign of all the challenges ahead. Scarlett hadn’t fared well, never having been in a car before. She wasn’t going to fare well with many things. But as soon as I lifted her in my arms so that Angelo could get out, I felt her and understood my dream, instantly. Its intention was to help me comprehend her sensation of feeling lost.
That is what this young woman was. Lost in a sea of the unknown, in almost every sense. Even a foreign touch would spook and wake her. In my arms, she struggled. I promised to not hurt her, but she, for understandable reasons, didn’t trust me. She wanted on her own feet. The problem was, those little bare soles were not familiar—didn’t remember—touching anything beyond cold concrete.
Peering around—seeming afraid of the night—Scarlett did her best to balance on timid toes, but eventually, she had to accept my offered hand to help stabilize her. She said, “The ground… I think it hurts my feet.”
I stared at her bound wrists, “May I pick you up?” thinking of the gore her skin had become. It was scarred, and parts were attached to the rope as if she hadn’t been freed for years.
Even though I was the one holding her hands, and asking the question, when she noticed Angelo coming toward her, he is the one who had her full attention. He was the one seeing her eyes, not the results of her horrid tortures. I don’t know if he even heard how pitiful she sounded when telling him, “I don’t know the right answers.”
Whatever transpired between the two in the basement still stood. There was a connection. Maybe she sensed his formidable stability. He was no longer in shock. He was now the solid Angelo my brother had sent me. Sent to me… Had my brother reached out to me through the dream? Trying to show me how Angelo felt to Scarlett—from her perspective?
Now remembering that viewpoint—how Angelo was someone I—she—trusted, I stayed quiet, hoping that dream was more of a premonition that was coming true. That Angelo’s wings would shine and lead the way.
He was off to a strong start, speaking to Scarlett about instincts and how her mother was wise to teach her about them. Especially when they were telling her she could trust me.
Either way, there was no denying the challenges ahead. Just the simple task of getting out of the car had been an ordeal and overpowered Scarlett’s senses. To say she was flabbergasted was a mild statement. A trembling little fist hit her own chest as she tried to explain her overwhelmed state. Tears filled those beautiful eyes. “I don’t know what is bad or good, but I know what hurts.”
Those words, that barely made sense, had me reconsidering all that I thought I knew. I had been so excited to live lavishly. Now, I was feeling like a fool for putting so much value in material things. All this young woman wanted was to understand why pebbles were hurting her feet.
To be humbled is a gift.
As I would soon learn Scarlett to be.
Eventually, she permitted Angelo to pick her up and carry her inside. Wide eyes darted about as she took in her new surroundings. When I had first stepped inside the house, I saw glamour and fantastic things, as I had seen in the Giordanos’ home. Scarlett, being raised in filth below any poverty level, only saw coldness. All the items that announced money were frightening her. I couldn’t help but wonder, was she sensing what that desire for wealth had done to her life? It hadn’t only stolen her freedom, but it had never offered any. She was doomed before taking her very first breath.
Is that how Isabella felt? Or did she live in rich bliss until the reality behind her father’s money, literally, smacked her across the face?
After double-checking all doors were locked, because I could tell the maid had already delivered food, I went into my room and rummaged through my suitcase for clothing. The jacket had kept falling off Scarlett, exposing her frail body. The smallest item I had was an undershirt.
Bringing it into the living room, Angelo called for me. “Sal.” He was trying to sit Scarlett on an expensive leather chair in the living room, but she wanted no part of it. That young woman, her bound hands clinging to Angelo’s shirt and jacket, gaped at the chair as if it were alive and the deadliest item she had ever seen.