CHAPTER FOUR │ AN ESCAPE PLAN

SCARLETT DEL GATO

Nothing made sense.

I made peace with the fact that my brother was part of the Mafia and I made peace with the fact that he worked with the Castigliones, out all people, but something that definitely didn’t make sense to me is why my brother would betray Giovanni if they were such great friends like Vito mentioned before.

I can’t think of a reason why my brother would send Giovanni to jail if they were such close friends. I don’t know what happened between the two of them, but all I could think about was this: my brother wasn’t so innocent in all of this.

He did, in fact, lie to me for years. All those late nights when he was gone and Eden had to keep me company was because he was with them, with Giovanni.

I didn’t know Antonio was mixed up in dangerous things. I also didn’t know he was part of the Mafia or that he was working with the Castigliones. Hell, I didn’t even know that he was friends with a guy like Giovanni Castiglione.

He kept it from me for years.

Every time I kept asking him where he disappeared off to during the day, he didn’t answer me, he only ordered me to stay inside the house with the doors and windows locked. He wouldn’t let me leave with Eden to go shopping or to spend the day at her house, and if I would leave for school, he always made me message him when I arrived at school and when I would leave the premises.

I was right about one thing though: Antonio was protective of me after all, but that was only because he was a part of the thing he wanted to protect me from—the gangs and the danger that came with being part of them. He protected me.

I feel my lip start to tremble.

I grit my teeth together, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand furiously.

I was sitting on the chair for who knows how long now, my butt started to hurt when the wood started to poke my ass, but I kept sitting.

Vito didn’t come back to talk to me after the talk we had yesterday and I think Giovanni was too angry to talk to me again, especially after I played around with his emotions a little bit yesterday. So I was stuck in this room and all I could do was stare out of the window to keep me entertained for the time being.

The grass down below was drenched in sparkling dew.

There was rain last night, but not enough to last the entire night. It was just enough to coat everything with this wetness all around.

The wind, however, was so strong last night, making the air around the room feel cool against my skin.

The pool outside was covered in leaves and dry twigs and there was this bite to the wind whenever a breeze would slip through underneath the doorframe.

I lift my legs up, resting it on the chair so I could hug my knees to my chest.

Their yard was so beautiful. The grass was cut but there were small flowers—dandelions and clover leaves— poking through the grass, telling me that it was starting to grow again from the rain we had last night. There was some sort of shed at the back of the yard. That’s probably where all the gardening tools were being held. The shed’s wooden door creaked when the wind washed over it.

More shivers cascaded down my back.

Couldn’t they have at least left me in this room with a blanket or even left me with one of their jackets? It was freezing in here. I hug my knees to my chest tighter, trying to radiate some warmth, but to no avail. I still shivered.

Giovanni didn’t lie when he said that the fall itself would kill me. We were about four to five storeys up. And even if I did, emphasis on if, manage to survive the five-storey fall, I’d have to make it past the guards standing by the front gate with guns ready to shoot me when they see me.

I assumed the Castigliones had guards.

It would be weird if they hadn’t.

So my chances of surviving were definitely slim.

As I was sitting on the chair near the only window in the entire room, I missed the sound of kids laughing or squealing in their yards. I didn’t hear any cars driving past, revving their engines as they drove by.

I didn’t hear anything but the sound of the breeze whirring through the leaves.

Other than that, it was quiet.

Not only was it very quiet, we were isolated and somewhere in the middle of nowhere. So even if I managed to survive the fall and manage to sneak past the guards, I would have to find my way through the endless acres of trees.

I really felt like a princess waiting on her prince to come and save her, except that this wasn’t some sort of storybook or fairy tale, this was my reality.

It was pathetic really.

My brother would want me to fight but it felt as if I didn’t have any fight left in me. I couldn’t beat them. Vito was right. I was just a harmless girl who received the bad end of the deal by being pulled into this world of danger. I was harmless but I definitely was powerless too. I couldn’t fight them even if I tried.

They were dangerous and not to mention very, very intimidating. Trying to fight them was like digging your own grave. Every time I would anger him, I scoop out some dirt out of my grave. It won’t be long until I would be knee-deep in my own grave.

The air tasted like sweet peaches.

I think it was only my hunger talking. The air didn’t smell anything like peaches, it still smelled like Vito’s cigarette he smoked in here yesterday. My stomach growled in response, I was thinking about peaches all of a sudden. I only had the previous day’s piece of cheese and a glass of water in my stomach.

My bladder was full and I really needed to go to the bathroom, but looking at how the day slowly but surely started to fade away, I don’t think they’re going to take me to the bathroom soon. They’re going to make me beg and I don’t beg. I won’t beg. I would pee on their expensive marble floors just to spite the two of them, mostly Giovanni because I would make him clean it up for not taking me to a bathroom.

The wind carried the sound of a gate being screeched open. I tilt my head, trying to train my ear to where the sound was coming from, but to no avail.

I got up from the uncomfortable chair, lifting myself up on the edge of the window so I could take a look at the yard to see if I saw any gates.

There, in the corner of my eye, I spotted a gate.

A black, matte coloured Maserati drove through the gates and I spotted a guard waving at someone who was in the car driving. I pulled myself onto the edge more, trying to see who was going to get out of the car, but the car drove further into the front yard and it disappeared behind the mansion, out of my view.

“Shit.” I curse under my breath. I stand heels flat against the marble floors.

My hands were still resting on the window ledge. My palms were suddenly very sweaty and my heart was beating uncontrollably again. What was I going to do? Wait for the person to get out of the car so I could scream for them to come to my rescue? With my luck it would’ve been Giovanni’s father and then I really would’ve dug my own grave.

I frown, turning to take a seat on the chair again, but my eye catches the door as realisation dawned on me: Vito—after he left yesterday— never locked the door. I never heard the jangle of keys and I definitely didn’t hear it slide in the keyhole. He didn’t lock the door.

Any person with the right mind could see that this entire set-up just screamed ‘trap!’, but I was desperate to getting out of here before I leave in a body bag, so being desperate was all I had at the moment.

While I was sitting on that chair, dawdling, I could’ve left the room.

I made a beeline to the door, pausing right in front of it to listen if there was any movement coming from behind the door, but when there was none, I slowly turned the doorknob and poked my head through to see if I had any company. I had none. I slip out of the room, closing the wooden door behind me as slowly and as softly as possible so they won’t hear the creak the door makes when someone leaves the room.

Once the door was closed, I trained my ears, listening to any signs of people talking or someone’s footsteps, but when I heard none, I made my way to the staircase. I was actually surprised that there weren’t any guards patrolling outside my room but I didn’t feel too relieved. They might all be downstairs, just waiting for me to escape so they could catch me again and lock me up in that room with nothing but a wooden chair and a window.

I placed my hand on the railing, graciously walking down the set of stairs like my life wasn’t in any danger right now.

I pass the third storey, seeing another hallway and a row of doors.

Deciding not to linger more than I already have, I started to run down the rest of the stairs. I nearly missed one, my heart got lodged in my throat when I nearly face planted on the last of the steps, but luckily I managed to straighten myself with the help of the railing.

I was in the foyer now by the looks of it.

To my left side, there was a living room.

It was bigger than my entire bathroom and en-suite combined.

There were leathered l-shaped couched decorated with beautiful throw-pillows to break the colour. There was a coffee table in the middle of the living room and a beautiful grey and white circular rug right underneath the table.

The framed windows were covered with curtains, blocking out the sun. There was a flat-screened TV mounted to the wall, off, telling me that no one was currently watching it. I feel a wave of relief washing over me.

There was a built-in shelf filled with hardcover books and a few ornaments in between them to give the shelf some decorations.

The air here smelled like scented candles and food.

I turn to my right, seeing a hallway that probably led to the kitchen. I didn’t want to find out if I was correct, even though my stomach growled at the delicious aromas coming from the kitchen.

I made my way to the front door instead.

My foot nearly caught onto something and when I glanced down, I saw a big Persian rug that stretched nearly almost from the front door right to the staircase right behind me.

This mansion had no right to be this beautifully decorated.

I swallow the lump of fear that rose in my throat when I placed my hand on the brass knob of the door. My muscles twitched, being more than ready to twist the knob to get everything over and done with, but voices coming from the hallway to my right made me freeze on the spot.

Thinking that they would most likely hear the creak of the front door being pulled open, I dashed toward where the sound of voices were coming from, slipping into the first room I found and hoping that there wasn’t anyone inside to catch me.

I close the door behind me right when I heard the footsteps walking past the room. I place my ear against the door, listening to their footsteps as it ascended up the staircase.

I turn around, seeing rows and rows of endless bookshelves lining the walls of the room. I assume I was in a personal library, but the desk directly in front of me told me that I was in someone’s office, and by the looks of the portrait mounted to the wall behind the desk, I could only assume that it was Giovanni and Vito’s father.

His sons looked like him, with the same jet-black hair but his hair was just a little grey around the edges and he had a freshly trimmed beard whereas his sons were freshly shaved.

He had the same smirk as Giovanni did and just looking at him made me feel this uneasiness spread across my entire body. If Giovanni inherited his anger issues from his father, I sure as hell was in for a ride.

I walk over to the desk, trailing my hand over the book’s spines as I went. There was no dust on them. The shelves were cleaned recently and the smell of vanilla filled my nostrils. The entire office smelled clean.

I frown when I see a small photograph the size of my entire palm lying face-down on the desk. Picking it up between my fingers, I flip it around.

My heart stopped beating.

It was a picture of Giovanni and Antonio. They were smiling and Giovanni had his arm draped around my brother’s shoulder in a side-armed hug. He was actually smiling, Giovanni. He wasn’t smirking. He was smiling.

Not wanting to look at it a second longer, I prop the photograph into my jean pocket.

“I know you’re hurting and betrayed, Giovanni.” Vito had said. “He was your best friend, after all.”

Best friend… Giovanni really was my brother’s best friend, but what did Antonio do to make Giovanni snap and kill him.

Why did my brother betray him, and how?

I swallow hard, turning on my heels before I made a beeline to the door. I didn’t bother to trail my fingers over the spines of the books again.

I just wanted to leave this place.

I open the door after I made sure there was no one lingering outside, and I bolted to the front door. At this point I didn’t even care if someone noticed I was trying to escape. I needed to get out of here and soon.

I open the front door but right when the fresh air washed over me, letting my loose but dirty hair flail against my back, someone shouted from upstairs. “She’s gone!”

The cool air chilled me to the bone, but I didn’t stop.

I barrelled out of the front door, seeing a big water fountain right in front of me. I had to run around it to get to the front gate, but when my gaze landed on the front gate, there was a guard standing there, smoking a cigarette.

When I stepped one step forward, thinking I could take just one guard out, I feel cool metal being pressed up against the back of my neck.

“I can’t let you leave.” Vito says, the gun shifting against the back of my head as if he was hesitating to keep it there or not. “Please don’t make this more difficult than it already is.”

“I am leaving whether you like it or not, Vito. So shoot me then because I am not going back inside that mansion. I am not going back in there.” I tell him, my voice shaky. “Pull the trigger.”

The guard threw his cigarette to the floor, stomping on it before he made his way toward us but he stopped in his tracks. I think Vito told him to stay put.

He nods once, walking back to his spot.

Vito sighs, his warm breath fanning the back of my neck.

He hesitates.

And then the gun isn’t pressed against the back of my neck anymore.

I bolt toward the gate but before I could reach the water fountain alone, Giovanni steps into view, coming from the garage by the looks of it, he steps in front of me and I nearly collide into his chest.

“Going somewhere?” He asks, the corner of his mouth curving upward.