Chapter 3 - THE SHADOWS OF THE PAST
The night air hit my face like cold water.
My apartment was four blocks away.
It was a small, peeling studio above a dry cleaner.
The rent was three months overdue.
I walked fast through the deserted alleyways.
Shadows stretched long under the flickering streetlamps.
I felt eyes on me.
A black sedan idled near the corner.
Its headlights were off.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
I quickened my pace.
The engine revved softly.
The sedan rolled forward, matching my stride.
I didn't run.
Running meant panic.
Panic meant mistakes.
My grandfather's voice echoed in my mind.
"A sparrow flies low, but she always sees the hawk."
The sedan stopped beside me.
The passenger window rolled down smoothly.
A man in a sharp suit stared out at me.
"Get in," he said.
His voice was flat, devoid of emotion.
"No," I said.
"It wasn't a request, Miss Rossi."
"Tell Dante I'm not interested."
"It's not Dante who wants to see you," the man said.
"It's Salvatore."
"He had his chance at the restaurant."
"He remembered something else," the man replied.
He opened the back door from the inside.
The interior smelled of leather and expensive cologne.
"Walk away," I said.
"If I walk away, I fail," the man said.
"And failure is not an option in our line of work."
He reached into his jacket.
I braced myself for a gun.
Instead, he pulled out a thick manila envelope.
He tossed it onto the pavement near my feet.
"What is this?" I asked.
"Open it."
I hesitated.
I knelt down and picked up the heavy envelope.
The paper was crisp.
I pulled out a single photograph.
It was a picture of my grandfather.
He was standing outside a stone church in Sicily.
A younger Salvatore stood beside him.
They were holding hands like brothers.
Or partners in crime.
On the back of the photo, words were written in ink.
*The debt remains unpaid.*
My breath caught in my throat.
"My grandfather never talked about him," I whispered.
"Men like them kept their secrets in the dark," the driver said.
"Why are you showing me this?"
"Because Salvatore is dying."
The words hung heavily in the cold air.
"What does that have to do with me?"
"Everything," the driver said.
"He wants to settle the ledger before his time runs out."
"I don't want his money."
"It's not money, Miss Rossi."
"Then what is it?"
"Protection."
I laughed bitterly.
"Protection from whom?"
"From the men who are coming for you."
Before I could answer, headlights blinded me.
Another car tore around the corner at high speed.
Tires screeched against the asphalt.
Gunshots cracked through the quiet night.
Glass shattered from the sedan.
The driver ducked instantly.
"Get down!" he roared.
I dropped to the ground, pressing my face into the dirt.
Bullets chewed into the brick wall behind me.
The black sedan accelerated, tires spinning.
It vanished into the darkness.
I lay alone on the cold pavement.
My hands were scraped and bleeding.
The manila envelope was clutched tightly in my fist.
May you like
The war had found me.
And there was nowhere left to hide.
