It’s pure instinct that makes me lock my hand around Gio’s arm and pull him into a narrow alley. It’s a shitty place to be, really, because it’s not so much an alley as a forgotten space between two buildings, with nowhere to go on the other side.

But my heart is in my throat.

I press my back against the wall.

Gio does the same.

He doesn’t let go of my hand.

“Sia,” he says, low and even. “What the hell is going on?”

“I saw him.” I swallow the cold fear settling in my throat. My skin crawls. We have to get out of here, but we have to stay off the sidewalk. What are we going to do?

“Who?”

“My uncle.”

Gio shakes his head, a quick little movement of disbleief. “Your uncle?”

“Yes. My uncle David.”

My mind races. How could he be here, in Verona? There’s no way he’s here by coincidence. I can’t put the pieces together. I can’t make it all work.

“Are you sure?”

I squeeze my eyes closed. “Yes.” He was in a car. His face was lit from the side, by a streetlamp. “I don’t know if he saw us or not.”

“Sia, it’s dark. Could it have been—I don’t know, a trick of the light?”

“It was him. I know it was him.” Shivers race up my spine to the base of my neck. “We have to go. Oh, shit—”

There are no doorways in the alley. No side-entrances to stores. Nothing. It’s a dead end.

“Okay.” Gio takes one breath and turns his face back toward the road. “Say the word, and we’ll go.”

The pressure descends like an icy cloth over the back of my neck. “You’re the mafia prince. You decide when we go.”

Gio laughs, and the ice melts into warmth, even with our backs up against a literal wall. “You’re the one who dragged us in here. I thought you had a plan.”

“I’ve never had a plan,” I grouse. “I’m only along for the ride.”

“One, two, three,” he says, and then he’s putting my hand in the crook of his elbow and marching us back onto the sidewalk.

I feel exposed. That’s saying something, coming from a person who lost her virginity this afternoon. Still, I couldn’t feel anymore awfully naked then I do in this instant, with Gio tugging on my arm. “Slow down,” he murmurs into my ear. “Slow down. Lean into me. Laugh.”

I laugh, but it sounds fake as fuck.

“He’s not going to be looking for a couple,” he reassures me at the next block.

“No, of course not.” Gio’s right. I should feel relieved, because my gut twisted at the sight of my uncle. It did not feel like being saved. But I don’t feel relieved. I feel guilty. I’m okay, and he should know that. I should tell him that I’m going to be fine. But there’s a drumbeat in the back of my head that’s saying no, no, no. Do not go to him. Do not talk to him. Get out of here.

I need a minute to think. I need to a minute to figure out why I’m suddenly afraid to come face to face with the one man who’s raised me all these years.

It doesn’t make any sense.

But the slap slap slap of my shoes on the sidewalk drowns out my thoughts. They spiral out of control no matter how I try to shove them into orderly lines. What is he doing here? What is he doing here?

Every inch of me rings with tension. It’s a few blocks to the hotel’s wide front lawn, but it feels like miles. My breath is harsh in my throat. What has happened to me? Why am I so desperate to get away from my own uncle? Is the fact that he’s out of place for Verona enough to send my body into a vicious fit of nerves?

Fuck.

It makes no sense.

We burst through the front door of the hotel in slow motion. My teeth are gritted in a fake smile, but nobody’s behind the front desk. It seems ominous. What if my uncle is already here? What if he’s waiting for us?

“We shouldn’t be here.” I grip Gio’s arms with my fingernails, aware that I’m digging in but unable ot stop. “We should go. Right now.”

“The room,” he says gently, lifting my hand away from his arm. “The room, and then we’ll go.”

We see no one on the way to the room, but my heart hammers in my ears as he slips the key into the clock, the click and whirr of it releasing as loud as a drumbeat.

Gio strides into the room, fast, as if to catch anyone inside off guard. “Good. It’s good,” he says. He throws the curtains shut over the window, and then everything is a flurry of movement. My hands shake while I put my shopping backs together, cramming them all inside the biggest one, as much as I can. Gio’s packed in an instant, strong hands shoving clothes into his suitcase and zipping it shut. I can hardly see to make sure we haven’t left anything. I want to be gone.

He makes me walk slowly down to the exit, which is torture.

I want to run.

He makes me stop while we check the lobby.

Nobody.

In the strip of parking lot, I feel like screaming while we throw our things into the car. We just did this. I want to be done with this. I want the pressure in my head to release me.

He starts the car while I fumble for my seatbelt, struggling for control.

“Drive, Gio. Jesus. Drive.”

“Wait.” There’s no malice in his voice, only a deadly calm.

It settles me.

For a moment.

“Do you see anyone?”

I raise my head and force myself to look out into the night. First one direction, then another.

“No.”

He puts the car in reverse and backs out of the spot.

My heart beats harder.

We’re past the row of cars, almost home free, when the headlights bounce into view at the end of the drive.

“Shit, shit, shit.” I grab the door handle, bracing myself.

“We don’t know it’s him.”

Gio’s right. We can’t see who’s driving the car.

It stops.

The driver’s door opens.

A man gets out.

A moment later our headlights illuminate him, and there he is, my uncle David, here in Verona, why is he here, why is he here?

Gio steps on the gas.

“Don’t hit him!” I yell. This is when he’ll leap out of the way of the car, this is when—

David stalks toward us.

Gio grits his teeth.

“Gio—”

At the last possible moment my uncle takes a single big step and we whoosh by him. I swear his jacket catches on the mirror. Gio looks once to the left and guns it out onto Main Street.

He doesn’t look back.

I do.

The last I see of my uncle, he’s reaching into his jacket, as if to get a gun.