I scour the grounds with my brothers and sisters, looking in every room and hidden tunnel, behind every goddamn door and tapestry. The Castle was designed to hide things, a clever maze within its walls. But as we search, I become more and more frantic. She’s not here.
Marialena screams. “Romeo. Romeo! There’s a fire in the chapel! Look, Romeo!”
I look out the window of the Great Hall, where I can see just a glimpse of the chapel at the edge of our property. Flames erupt toward the heavens, igniting the night sky.
“Vittoria,” I say in a hoarse whisper, fear choking me. I run toward the door that will take me to the chapel, my brothers following at my heels. Sparks fly into the air, the smell of smoke and burning wood thick.
Tavi, faster than all of us, gets there first. “It’s locked!” He pounds on it with his fist, then leaps back to assess the windows. Some are already cracked and broken. It feels like a symbol of my family’s demise, the ancient chapel that connected us to the only chance of redemption falling to ruins.
“Windows are too small,” I shout above the roaring sound of the fire. None of us would fit through them. Tavi barrels toward the door behind me, his face set, and when he reaches the door, he puts his whole body through it. If it were any bigger, like the ornate doors of our chapel in Tuscany, he couldn’t have done it. But these doors are small, imported from Italy decades ago. They splinter under his weight.
Tavi leaps into the fire-filled chapel.
“She ain’t here, Rome!” he screams over his shoulder. He knows why I’m here. She isn’t there. The heavens open as rain falls from above, blinding my vision and making the flames of the chapel momentarily flicker before they resume their deadly consumption.
Santo’s strapped to the altar, screaming as flames engulf him.
“No!” Tavi screams. “No!”
He launches himself bodily at Santo, and smothers him to put the flames out. When I reach them, Santo’s screaming, but the flames are dying down, the smell of burnt wood and incense mingling with the smell of burnt human flesh.
“Oh, God. He did this to them.”
“Get the doctor, Tavi, now.”
“Where is he?” I thunder at Santo. “Where is he!”
Santo nods toward the back of the chapel where my Nonna lies, unconscious, a gun only inches from her fingers, and my father lies, bleeding out onto the burgundy carpet runner. His eyes are half-open, blood pooling in the corner of his mouth.
I fall to my knees to escape the noxious fumes.
Where’s Vittoria?
“Get them out,” I order my brothers. “Get them out of here.”
I reach for Santo and drag him toward the exit. He moans, unconscious but fucking alive. I leave him on the front step to the chapel, when it dawns on me.
The chapel, at the furthest end of our property, is connected to the outermost portion of The Castle.
I told her where to go. I told her where to go when she was in trouble, and if she listened to me… if she could get there safely… I know where she is.
“Secure them,” I tell Tavi. I look back to the house. Mario’s got my sisters and Leo’s watching over my mother. It’s my job to find Vittoria.
Tavi looks down at Santo, unconscious but alive. I’ll take him to the doctor before I fucking interrogate his ass.
Santo. Why do I know in my gut that Santo’s behind this? I trusted him. I trusted him as I trust all men of the Rossi brotherhood.
I make sure no one’s following me and run for the wine cellar.
Sirens sound, fire engines coming to put out the fire. I don’t know who called them, but I don’t care. There’s only one thing I care about now.
I run down the hallway behind the dining room, past the library and kitchen, past the war room until I get to the secret passage to the wine cellar. My hands shake with nerves as I slip the key into the lock and twist.
The door falls open in the silence, an audible click the only sound.
“Vittoria?”
Nothing but silence. My gut was wrong. She isn’t here. Why did I think it would be that simple?
I throw the door all the way open and descend into the wine cellar. It’s dark and dank in here, but no one was able to enter except for me.
I don’t have my phone or a light, but we keep candles nearby in every room for emergencies, hearkening back to when The Castle was built. I grab the candle from a wall mount and strike a match, illuminating the interior of the windowless room.
“Vittoria?”
Nothing. No one’s here. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I turn to go. She’s gone, and I have no idea where to, or how she’ll ever get back.