Dinner is quite simple.

And by simple, I mean completely informal…and I love it. It’s not like how Draco would set it up, where butlers would bring our food out in an orderly fashion and bow before leaving.

No.

Aunt Minnie is a great cook, and she cooks for her family because she loves them.

All the food is set up on the table, hot and fresh. Grilled mixed vegetables and grilled chicken on top of fettuccini pasta and creamy Alfredo sauce. The bread rolls are piping hot, the tea sweet at first sip.

All the bowls are passed around, everyone talking amongst each other. I’m not quite sure how to slip into each conversation, so instead I sip my tea until the bowls come my way.

“So, Gia,” Uncle Jack starts, placing the last bowl down and then picking up his fork. “I have a few rules I like to keep in place under my roof.”

I meet his eyes, swallowing the chunk of bread in my mouth. “Yeah? And what are they?”

“One of them is for everyone to get along. If there is ever conflict or misunderstanding, you go to the source and figure it out like adults. Everyone at this table is older than eighteen. I expect you all to act like it.”

After he says that, I look over at Clark, who looks me over twice before biting into his Alfredo sauce-covered bread roll.

“Okay. That sounds easy enough,” I sigh.

“My second rule is if you ever need to go out, you let me know. Same goes for Minnie and Jen and even Clark. I need to know your whereabouts in case anything ever happens.” I glance at Clark, and he rolls his eyes, slouching back in his chair. “Our Nicotera name is always a threat to someone.”

I nod. “Right.”

“And my last rule: no guns under my roof. It’s plain and simple. If I see any trace of a gun, I will take it, and you won’t see it again.” He looks me hard in the eyes. “I have a place for guns that’s nearby, but it ain’t here. The only person that’ll be carrying guns around this home is the man paying the bills. In other words, your Uncle Jack.”

I pick up my tea, nodding. “Sounds fair.”

“It’s a bullshit rule,” Clark mumbles.

“Clark, I’ve told you about cursing at the dinner table,” Aunt Minnie scolds.

Clark digs into his pasta again, but his eyes are hard on mine. Like he knows something. Like I’m an enemy.

“Other than that, you are free to do whatever you want. Free to roam, free to go for walks on the trails. Free to make use of the hot tub. Free to cook whatever you want. You can do anything you see fit, just as long as you clean after yourself and as long as you don’t set my house on fire by meddling with the fireplace.”

Aunt Minnie and Jen laugh.

“It almost happened once with Jen,” Uncle Jack chuckles, and Jen sucks her teeth.

“It was one time, Dad, and it was only a sheet of paper that got caught on fire.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs.

“We’re really glad to have you here, though, Gia,” Aunt Minnie says with a soft smile. “We wouldn’t want you anywhere else. If there is anything—and I mean anything—that you need, it’s all yours. Don’t even hesitate to ask.”

“Yeah.” I smile, doing my best to show my appreciation. “I’m glad to be here. Thank you, guys, again. I know having me around is a huge risk.”

“We’re always at risk, sweetie,” she teases, waving a hand. “That’ll never get old. Why do you think we live out here, in the middle of nowhere?”

Everyone at the table laughs—well, everyone except Clark. Clark smashes his lips together.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Uncle Jack rubs his belly. “It’s quiet. Peaceful. Every room has a great view. Don’t plan on moving from here any time soon.”

“I hear that.” Aunt Minnie stands, grabbing Uncle Jack’s empty plate. “Hope you guys have saved room for dessert. It’s my favorite walnut and caramel cheesecake from Heidi’s!”

“Oh, I love that place!” Jen squeals, hopping out of her chair with her plate in hand. “I’ll grab more plates, Mom.”

A hand grips my shoulder, and I tense up, looking up to see Uncle Jack hovering over me. He notices my reaction to his touch and pulls his hand away quickly. “Hey, you have nothing to be afraid of, Gia. You won’t get hurt again. Not on my watch.”

I swallow thickly.

“I’ll be watching you, too,” Clark says. “There isn’t anything that can get past me. If they come here, they’re asking for a death wish.”

I expect Uncle Jack to say something in disagreement, but he doesn’t. Instead, as I look back at him, he gives me a small nod. “The Jefe won’t touch you ever again.”

See, months ago that comment would have given me hope, but instead, it only fills me with despair. Suddenly, I’m not hungry, but I force myself to eat Aunt Minnie’s favorite cheesecake anyway.

As soon as we’re allowed to leave the table, I head back to my room, shutting the door, climbing on the bed, pressing my back to the headboard, and drawing my knees up to my chest.

I want to cry, but I don’t.

Instead, I think about ways to get back.

Ways to fight.

Ways to be there for him again.

I’m at a loss. All of it will require help, and a plane ticket, and even a cellphone. All of that is traceable, and it will only put Uncle Jack in danger if he tries to come after me again.

I need another way out.

I need to get back to Jefe.

* * *

By nightfall, the house is way too quiet.

It’s not eerie. It’s not awkward.

It’s just . . . way too serene. Though I know I don’t need to look over my shoulder every single second, I can’t help myself. Every little noise sends me into survival mode. Every creak, drip, rustle has me on edge.

Sighing, I roll out of bed, turning on the lamp beside the bed and then going for my suitcases. I unzip one of them, taking out the black case inside of it.

Opening the case, I take out the wads of cash and then draw out the small handgun. Inside the case is a note—one I couldn’t read earlier because I was interrupted.

I pick it up and read it.

Por si acaso. Just in case.

I sigh, knowing the handwriting. He did promise me a gun.

After counting the money from the case and the money in the large pocket of my suitcase, which totals to $350,000, I go to the vanity with the gun in hand, shutting the light off and then walking to the terrace, but not before grabbing the coat Uncle Jack gave to me. I wrap it around my shoulders, stepping barefoot onto the cold cement.

The moon seems much closer.

Crickets chirp and owls hoot.

Like I said, too serene.

I drop my gaze to the gun, studying it. It’s small, like a pocket gun. Fits my hand perfectly. I would have gone with something bigger, with way more power, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers. If Uncle Jack or Aunt Minnie knew about it, I’m sure they’d have taken it.

My eyes prickle and sting, but the tears don’t bother reaching the surface.

Because something clicks behind me and then there is something hard and cold pressing into the back of my head.