Inferno (Page 37)

Why did they have to come? They had ruined everything. Now someone was dead and it was only going to get worse. Everything was such a violent, steaming mess. That stupid crimson card. That stupid boy.

Nic was watching me.

‘You broke your promise,’ I said.

‘And you broke yours.’

There was no accusation in his words, but they still stung. Every second seemed to pull him further away from the boy I had thought he was, and I was starting to wonder if I had tricked myself – if the feeling of needing someone, of wanting someone to want me in a world where everyone had turned their back on me, had masked the truth of everything.

‘Did you mean it – at least when you said it?’ I asked, my voice deceptively steady for all the commotion that was raging inside me. Show me who you are.

It was hard to find the warmth in his dark eyes now. They were hardened, absent of their golden flecks. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I never meant it.’

Honesty at last. Even if it stung. Well, we could give each other that, at least.

‘I didn’t mean it either,’ I said. I didn’t want him to think he had gotten one up on me, even now, in the midst of all the bloodshed and horror. My pride was important to me, and his betrayal was irritating.

‘I thought you did,’ he admitted with a frown. ‘But when I told Luca he was sure you’d lied.’

I glared at the back of Luca’s head. So mistrustful. So accurate. Tears were streaming down my face. My vision was red around the edges. In my mind the image of Calvino careening backwards played over and over. I tried to blink it away, but it slithered back in every time my attention lapsed. Here was a new nightmare, waiting to play over the top of the warehouse one. Great. At least my mother wouldn’t have to suffer this one along with me. The world is full of small mercies – I chose to recognize that one.

To Nic, I said, ‘You would have come either way, though.’ It was a statement, not a question. I knew he would do anything to get to Jack. To have the first move on the Marinos was obviously a no-brainer. Anything I did or didn’t do was peripheral to that.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘We would have.’

I looked away from him, out the window, every molecule in my body still trained on those brothers, wondering what was next for them – for all of us. But I didn’t want to talk about Nic’s betrayal any more. We were both just a couple of liars with blood on our hands and agendas more important than our trust in one another.

It is what it is.

We were leaving the city, heading west and watching the city lights fade behind us. Millie was cowering against me in the back seat. ‘Soph, I’m so scared. I really don’t want to die tonight.’

‘You’re not going to die, Millie.’ Luca spoke matter-of-factly from the front seat. His panic in the alleyway was a million miles away from his carefully controlled demeanour now. ‘I think we all need to calm down.’

‘I am calm,’ said Nic. It was scary how emotionless they could act, how pragmatic they seemed to be at a time when it felt like the world was tipping over. For all I knew they could have murdered someone in Eden, and still I didn’t have the guts to ask them.

‘I’m not talking about you,’ Luca returned. ‘We can’t send them back to Cedar Hill like this. They’re in shock. Qualcuno chiamerà la polizia.’

I looked at myself and then at Millie. Our dresses were destroyed, our limbs were bloodied. ‘We’re a mess. Our parents are going to freak out.’

Luca nodded. Calm. Focused. ‘We need to get you both cleaned up.’

Nic turned to his brother. ‘It will take a lot. Guardali.’

Luca’s grip on the wheel tightened, threads of red lining his white-knuckled hands. He kept his eyes trained on the road. ‘I can’t,’ he said quietly. ‘It makes me sick.’

‘I didn’t think she’d come,’ Nic said.

They switched to Italian as the argument escalated.

‘It’s too late now,’ said Nic, flipping the conversation back to English, either too weary or too distracted to stay angry. ‘We have to deal with the evidence. Sophie is covered in it.’ He threw me what I assumed was an apologetic glance, but it only made me more concerned about the ‘evidence’, and whether I constituted part of that as well.

Millie’s hands were clutching mine so hard my fingers were turning purple. I didn’t want her to let go. I wished I hadn’t counted those stab wounds. They were printed in the backs of my eyelids: those pooling smudges.

Nic’s phone rang. He turned away and his voice changed, turning low and hurried, as he flipped into long strings of Italian. When he hung up, he released a heavy sigh. It was the closest thing I had seen to grief up until then.

‘Valentino?’ Luca asked Nic.

‘Yes.’

‘Did you tell him?’

Nic nodded. ‘The boss is angry.’

‘Ci sarà del sangue,’ said Luca, shaking his head. Whatever that meant, it didn’t sound good.

Millie pinched me. ‘What’s going on?’

Nic turned around again. ‘Valentino knows you’re here.’

‘Is he angry about what happened?’ I asked.

Nic looked away from me, out the window towards the passing trees. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘He’s angry.’

I got the sense that was a colossal understatement.

‘Where are we going?’ Millie asked tremulously.