Anticipation of what's coming has me jittery, with my palms clammy and the tips of my fingers icy.

I can't decide if Elio enjoys showing off or is just too arrogant to care about the consequences of not going unnoticed. Surely, his car, a black Maserati, is a bit flashy for someone who should be hiding in plain sight.

I decide not to comment on it as we speed down Florence streets, beautiful old buildings rush past the window.

Ever since we got off the plane, Elio has been silent. Not that I'm complaining, I have no interest in hearing his stupid deep voice.

From the corner of my eye, I steal a glance his way. Elio is securing his phone in a black duffel bag and takes out a pair of leather gloves.

The car slows down and I chew my bottom lip, scanning the dark surroundings as the driver keeps turning into darker alleys. I fidget with my necklace, struggling to stay still. From my periphery, I catch Elio putting on the gloves.

The car halts and a man opens the door on Elio's side; I scan the place through the window. A few old buildings with grimy iron roll-ups for their entrances are all situated on one side of the street.

Curiously but cautiously, I unlock the door and climb out. The ground is uneven and the weather is a little cold for my taste. I nervously rub my palm up and down my arm. Over a dozen men clad in black with assault rifles have formed a half-circle around the place.

By the time I shut the door, Elio has rounded the car and is standing next to me.

Pietro hurries to us, his bulky form wrapped in an unzipped black jacket with matching trousers. He plants himself on Elio's other side, quickly speaking in a low voice.

After a moment Elio nods and Pietro shouts an order, setting the men hidden in the smaller alleys in motion. They rush out and start cutting the thick iron chains locking the roll-up doors.

With confusion, I turn to Elio just as he does.

"Don't wander away, don't get in the way, and stay close to me, understood?" he says in a whisper, his gaze darting from one building to another as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

Speechless, I nod.

His eyes flicker to me, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

"Fine," I mutter. He stands taller, making me feel incredibly small next to him. Pietro holds his spot on Elio's right, muttering something into his earpiece before shooting a worried glance at Elio.

While the men are busy breaking into what I assume are garages or perhaps storages, I take the chance to survey the place. Three black cars are aligned behind Elio's car and two jeeps are ahead. The street is quite narrow, with no sidewalks, leaving barely any space on either side of the cars. All the buildings in the alley are similar, old, dirty, and some have their doors covered in graffiti, with four stories at most. The only source of illumination is the headlights of the cars.

An uncomfortable chill runs down my spine and I scan the place more thoroughly but spot nothing.

I nibble my bottom lip; the creaking of metal returns my attention to the buildings across from me. They open the doors, and three men carrying gigantic red plastic containers enter the building. Inside is dark and as they go further in, the shadows consume them.

But I don't need to see what they're doing.

It all clicks into place.

Hardly holding back my gasp I spin to Elio, gaping at him.

No way in hell is he going to do that.

He's talking to Pietro, then nods and walks away, taking out his gun.

I gulp uncomfortably. A small voice in my head starts chiming I shouldn't have come as regret slowly ebbs into my system.

"Elio," I softly call as he walks further away from me. Instant panic pushes me into a hyper-aware state. I'm half tempted to follow him, but he did mention not getting in the way.

To my displeasure, he either didn't hear me or chose to ignore me, either way, I'm left standing awkwardly near the car as he surveys the place.

I groan internally.

Sure I hate this dude's guts, but at least he's keeping me alive, and right now, I feel like I'm dancing on the edge of death.

By the time Elio is done scanning the area, his men are out and a heavy scent of gasoline burns my eyes and the back of my throat.

Icy sweat breaks over my forehead and my palms grow clammy. I shouldn't have come.

Thankfully Elio motions his hand, waving me to him. Not needing to be asked twice, I go to him swiftly hoping I don't appear too desperate.

From the edge of my vision, I catch a familiar face. My eyes widen in horror. As if the situation isn't shitty enough, the guy I thought was a part of the New York street gang and threw him behind bars is standing next to Pietro with his assault rifle ready in his hands.

I'm half tempted to make a run for it. Maybe I'll manage to outrun them, or maybe I'll die trying. If the odds weren't so terribly against me, I would've tried, but I'm not that stupid. Nor desperate yet.

I wring my fingers and focus on my breathing.

Elio fishes out a lighter from his front pocket and holds it in front of me, a wicked gleam in his dark eyes and a smug smile threatening to stretch across his face. "Would you like to do it?" he offers.

I gasp, "No!"

He chuckles and shrugs. "Suit yourself." He walks ahead and pulls off the lid. A small flame flickers to life.

subconsciously I retreat a step.

He throws the lighter into the building.

Pietro hurries back to him, handing Elio another lighter and he does the same for the other two buildings.

Too soon, angry tongues of flame consume the first story and attack the higher floors. My gaze stays glued to the red and orange fire, burning everything in its wake.

However, Elio seems to be enjoying the entire show as he holds up a middle finger at the security camera attached to the outer wall, pulls out his gun, and shoots it.

I want to scream at him why he's acting like an irrational teenage boy, but I don't. I can't.

The fire keeps growing, and the smell of burning wood and melting plastic rubs on the back of my throat. Smoke rises to the sky growing thicker and darker.

My body trembles uncontrollably as I fail to pull my gaze away from the blaze. Even though the heat radiating from the fire is noticeable, my body freezes and I stay rooted to the spot.

Slowly the voices of the men around me talking grow fainter as the memory of what I've been fleeing from for years resurfaces in my mind.

Locked door, thick grey smoke seeping from underneath it, burning wood and fabric's scent, the crackling sound of flame eating away anything in its way.

My heart hammers so fast it makes my chest ache and my knees become weak. Every instinct in me is screaming to flee and put as much distance between me and the fire as possible, but I remain unmoving.

My body is numb with fear. I fist my hands and will myself to snap out of it. I'm not a helpless eleven-year-old kid. No. I'm in an open space and there are no threats.

I keep chanting the facts in my head, feeble and unsteady at first, but I don't stop and repeat it until my brain starts working again.

I realize the guy I sent to prison has his focus fixated on me, while Elio and Pietro are on the other side, both appearing tense. Our eyes lock and dread pools in my stomach.

A loud gunshot startles not only me but everyone around me.

Horror stricken I turn, catching glimpses of men situated on the roof of the building across from us.

The rest is a frenzy of action. Elio's men draw their weapons, not wasting a second for attacking back.

A bullet speeds past my ear, snatching my breath away.

I gawk in the direction it came from. Everything's happening too fast for my brain to register.

Not a moment later, I'm flanked by men, a strong hand wraps around my shoulder, urging me to walk. With one final tug, my legs move as my eyes frantically zoom around, seeing but not registering anything until it lands on Elio's calm features.

He's talking into his earpiece while keeping his arm firmly around me as he brings me closer to himself, shielding my back and leading us to a narrow alley nearby.

The deafening sound of gunshots echoing in the dark street mingles with my pounding heart. A hazy fog settles over my brain.

I barely note Elio snatching off his earpiece and throwing it to the ground before stomping on it.

He stands in front of me, his mouth moving way too fast for me to decipher anything. He leans closer to me and a faraway thought crosses my head, he might be talking to me but I fail to react properly. His hands start feeling and turning my arms quickly inspecting them. His calm features take on a hint of alarm growing more prominent with each passing second.

Everything appears too fast and way too slow at the same time. The ruckus from the main street grows fainter as my heart sluggishly thuds away in my chest.

Elio's warm palms grab my face, forcing me to look at him. For a long moment, I stare at his worried dark eyes before my gaze falls to his mouth, moving and forming a familiar shape repeatedly. Even though his deep voice reaches my ears, I fail to understand it.

My brows draw together and I blink a few times.

"Cerise," he anxiously calls out louder, warmth seeping from his fingers to my cheek. "Goddamn it, don't pass out on me now." His warm breath washes over my face, making me realize how cold I am.

I blink again, finally the engines in my brain restart. My gaze flickers to the entrance of the alley before latching back on Elio.

"Are you hurt?"

"No," I hoarsely whisper.

He sighs, dropping his hands from my face. To my surprise, I instantly miss his touch. He checks my shoulders again to ensure I'm right.

"I said I'm fine," I repeat stronger, and at last relief smoothens the furrows of his brows.

He nods and runs his hand through his hair. "Good, we need to leave."

"I almost got shot in the head."

"I know," he replies nonchalantly, his voice as blank as a white sheet of paper while he turns around.

That's when I notice a black motorcycle is propped up as he takes off the helmet resting on the handle and tosses it aside.

"You said there won't be any violence." I point at the other end of the alley, the number of gunshots has decreased but it's still present and way too frequent for my liking.

"Not now, Cerise." Elio takes off his jacket and holds it out. "You're freezing."

With disbelief, I glance between him and his jacket. He can't possibly be serious right now. I almost got shot in the head and instead of giving me a proper explanation, this is what he's worried about!

"I am not touching your stuff."

His face darkens, his lips turning into a thin line with annoyance. "Fine, do whatever you want, wear it or burn it, either way, we have to get going right now." He grabs my hand and shoves the jacket to me before kicking off the prop holding up the motorcycle. In one elegant motion, he plants himself on it.

I gape at him. "I'm not getting on that thing with you."

He clenches his jaw causing a muscle to jump before he shuts his eyes and tilts his head back, inhaling deeply. Once he reopens them, he's calmer. "If it wasn't already obvious to you, they want you dead. By all means, stay here and get killed. So what the first time they didn't get the bullet inside your skull, give them a second chance to complete the job." He furls his fingers around the handles.

I open my mouth to argue but he beats me to it.

"The options are clear; you ride or die. Simple." He revs up the engine.

I glance at the other end of the alley. He has a point. Warily I eye his motorcycle. Cursing him, the mafia, and everything and anything before I give in and slide into his jacket, still warm from his body heat.

Hesitantly I inch toward him, noticing him rolling his eyes but not making any attempts at helping me.

Where have I gotten myself into?

Reluctantly I place my hand on his shoulder for support as I haul myself up and sling my leg over the motorcycle.

Once seated behind him, I pull the jacket tighter around my frame."Hold on tight, tesorino," he calls out, humor dripping from his voice.

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