Celeste;
"If that's all, I'll have to leave now." The wood slaps against its frame, announcing her departure after I'd responded with silence, taking her flowery smell with her.
Yes, I'd resorted to this. Being sick—because I had a plan though.
And not just because I couldn't evade Romano's soul-searing question.
At that point, it had seemed as if my brain glitched. So my feet acted on impulse, stumbling a few steps back, the back of my palm landing on my forehead, and my eyes squinting dramatically.
Romano had snatched my wrist, his features twisting with concern once he'd realized my speeding pulse.
If only he knew it was from fear of being caught.
Stifling a chuckle, I make sure the footfalls of the servant girl have dulled out, then I throw aside the comforter, my bare feet hitting the warmth of the rug.
Deliberately ignoring the drugs she placed on the bedside, I waltz to my wardrobe. Running my fingers along the line of clothes in my arsenal, I stop at a black sweatshirt and pants.
Smiling, "Perfect."
With haste, I pull out of my nightdress, quickly throwing on the sweats I pick.
On my way to the window, I pause—a mini lightbulb flashing in my head—before I do a three-sixty and lock the door, leaving the key in the keyhole.
Gliding open with a slight metal groan, the window widens on its hinges.
A wave of cold Palermo breeze slams into my face.
Breath controlled, I hitch a leg on the windowsill, heaving my body weight with the other. Checking for balance with my palms braced on either side of the window, I cast a sweeping glance around the vicinity.
It's 10 PM, the moon awfully bright, the guards still on patrol.
The residence gate is located at the east side of the plot; hence, multiple men are stationed there.
Other axes will be monitored as well…hell, the CCTVs.
Breathing in and then out, "Take it easy. One problem at a time."
And my current problem is how to reach the ground from this incredibly far height.
Luckily for me, the walls on this part are put together with bricks, and with my firm boots, it won't be difficult to scale through them.
I begin, leaving my body to the wind as I let go and hook my fingers on the windowsill where my feet had been.
A small brick juts out, and I leverage it, using it as a foothold. From there, I begin to silently scale downward.
The muscles above my forearm burn with pressure. I almost give in when the crunch of gravel slices through the cries of crickets. I still, my spine stiffening and my breath coming off short.
Craning my neck, I see a man—definitely armed—scouring the area.
I believe it's a final scrutiny before switching shifts.
My heart lurches to my throat. Biding my time, I patiently wait till he passes. In the meantime, I dart narrowed glances, trying to locate blind spots.
Once he's gone and I'm certain, I continue my sorrowful journey down.
By the time I land, my arms and thighs cry out in reprieve.
But I don't hesitate. Flinging my hood up, I rush in the opposite direction from where the man just went.
The fence is high enough, so it isn't a big deal to go over. It's only after I do that horror steals my breath.
There's a camera glaring down at me from beneath the roof.
Jesus. Only when I get to the other side am I able to spot it with the moon's glowing aid.
I'll deal with that later.
Deciding that, I spin on my heels and run.
The night is purely creepy. Tracing my way to a public phone booth, I fish out the prepaid card I stole from one of the servants—let's just say they shouldn't leave their backs and aprons lying about in the mansion.
Quickly inserting the card into the phone, I punch a familiar number into the pad, and it rings.
"Hello?" The voice from the other end reeks of confusion.
"Judy, it's me," I yap into the speaker.
"What the fuck, Poppy?"
Saliva sluices down my throat.
"When will you stop taking risks like this?" Her outrage is valid, but I can't bring myself to care right now.
"Where are you? We need to talk." Precisely, I cut to the main point.
"What's wrong?" Hesitation slithers through her inquiry.
Figuring she's on a job, I ask again, "Where the fuck are you, Judy? I'll meet you there."
Judy huffs out a shallow breath before slowly saying, "Devil's Hooves. Five blocks away from the club Romano took you to."
"Okay." No wonder her background is heavy with noise.
"You remember the route?"
"I do." I end the call, taking out the card and sauntering my way.
Halting a taxi, I give directions, and in less than twenty minutes, we arrive. Paying with the stolen money, I walk into the lot.
The vibe here is similar to Devil's Den. Same neon-colored lights and blaring music threatening to leave me audibly impaired.
Pulling into a club in sweats—of course, all eyes glue on me. However, thankfully, the man at the entrance seems to be in a heated phone call, so I get the door myself and file in.
Blue and yellow lights spiral overhead. Loud music, horny clubgoers. Well, in the mess, I search for Judy.
Just before I find her, a soft palm around my wrist drags me off, but this time, I don't panic—it seems to be her intro.
"What is it you wanted to tell me?" Cutting through the noise, her firm voice falls into my ears.
Flitting my gaze around, I force my mind to settle with the fact that there's no danger—just intrusive eyes appraising the girl in a sweatshirt in a club.
"We've gathered a lot of attention," I tell Judy with a tilt of my lips.
"I know that," she replies. "Get to the point."
Bringing my attention to her instead, I ask, "Where's Alexandro?"
Judy's brows furrow. "Greg sent him on a mission of sorts…I think to unalive a certain drug-trading family," she informs me. "He's been gone for months though."
Swiping my tongue against my lower lip, I exhale a whiff of dense air.
"Is something the matter, Poppy?" Narrowed eyes send sharp shards of suspicion my way.
"I don't know, but I'm having a hunch." Swallowing, I reveal, "I think Caruso is onto us or something."
An uneasy line appears on her temple. "What do you mean?"
"Tonight, he cornered me during dinner. Showed me a drawing of our tattoo, Judy." I elaborate, watching it sink into her by the second.
"He even tried searching for it on my body."
"Did he find it?" Tension soaks her expression.
"No." I shake my head.
Judy literally huffs in relief. "I was against the spot you chose to get yours, but I'm grateful now."
I shoot her the 'you see' glance, but she doesn't seem to notice—too caught up in her own thoughts.
"So you think they might have gotten the lead from Alexandro?"
I nod eagerly—a childish behavior I've not quite gotten over whenever I'm around my found family. "He has his in the most obvious place."
"His neck," Judy mutters, "that psycho."
Something catches her attention as she whips her head over her shoulder, then regards me with urgency. "I'll inform Greg. You should leave now—and try not to die."
And she's strutting away, slithering between sweaty bodies. She disappears.
It clicks then—my stomach plunging when I remember that I hadn't informed her about the CCTV that caught me hopping the fence.
If I had a gun, I'd shoot myself in the foot.
Deciding to obey instructions, I veer around, heading for the exit when a figure at the far end catches my curiosity.
A very tall, familiar figure I've always seen in the mansion. He's always around Caruso, rattling things in his ears.
The one with the weird name…Michealo. Yes, that one.
He's not alone though. Two hefty men trail behind him—and they…goodness.
Something tightens in my abdomen.
They're dragging a bloody—likely dead—body along. The crowd ignores the sight, giving them a gaping wide berth.
A voice grates in my head, telling me to go home just as Judy had said.
But curiosity chafes at my pulse, edging me like empty lungs burning for air.
Against my better judgment, I find my feet carving a path to where they'd just disappeared.