It’s cold.

I can hear the rain hammering against the cracked window pane, smell the foul odor of damp trash down in the street. Sirens wail in the distance, but I don’t dare allow myself to believe they might be coming to save me. Nobody is coming to save me. There’s nobody left who even could. My father… my hero, my rock, he’s gone. And he’s never coming back from where those evil Mafiosi sent him. I grit my teeth and feel my whole body tense up as I curl my hands into tight fists. I need to stay calm. I need to accept that this—whatever this is—is my life now.

I can’t save myself. And none of my friends know where I am or what I’m about to do. I haven’t had any chance to talk to anyone, not with Claudio and Dino shadowing my every step and monitoring my every breath. They took my cell phone. I have no idea where it is now. For all I know they’ve used it to tell everybody in my contacts list to fuck off and never speak to me again. Anything to isolate me further. I wonder if they did. If so, maybe they sent a message to the last number Bruno was using. Not that it matters. He’s probably moved on to a new number by now, and besides, he hasn’t shown any interest in me for weeks. I shouldn’t count on him or anyone else. I’m all alone in this, and I better get used to that.

I’m standing in a dimly lit motel room, the blinking neon vacancy sign sending faint strobe lights through the thin curtains in shades of sickly pale green. Across the room is a rickety-looking bed with a lumpy mattress and threadbare brown sheets. The light bulb in the bedside lamp flickers ominously every few minutes like it’s ready to burn out any second. There are stains on the carpet I don’t even want to think about, pools of rust red and dark gold. Who the hell knows what all has gone on in this room? Or in any room of this shitty motel? I don’t want to know, but I have a feeling I’m about to find out. I’m going to get a taste of something horrible soon. It’s coming.

My mouth is so dry. I wish I could get a glass of water or something, but I don’t have any cups here, and even if I wanted to try and collect tap water in my hands to drink, something tells me the water here probably isn’t quite up to drinking standards. So I just swallow hard and stare up at the ceiling tiles, trying to breathe slowly and calm my racing heart. The tears burn in my eyes but I can’t let them fall. It won’t help. And Claudio was very emphatic about keeping myself pretty. I need to prevent my eyeliner from running down my cheeks.

I blink rapidly to stem the tears and hurry into the creepy little ensuite bathroom, slamming my hand against the clicker light switch. One of the bulbs over the mirror pops, sending tiny shards of thin glass flying, and I let out a shriek as I fall backward into the tub, tearing the shower curtain down as I go. I sit there stunned for a moment, my bare legs sticking up out of the tub while my head pounds from the pain of knocking it against the porcelain. I heave a deep breath and reach back to make sure I’m not bleeding. Thankfully, I’m not.

“That’s gonna bruise,” I murmur to myself as I gingerly climb back out of the tub, trying not to step on any of the shattered glass. In this moment, I’m grateful for the ugly, oversized black platform heels Claudio forced me to wear. If I were barefoot right now, I’d probably have my feet all sliced up. I crunch across the glass to lean over the counter and survey my face in the filth-streaked mirror. My eyes are pink-rimmed from crying and even my designer mascara and eyeliner can’t conceal how tired and broken I look. I use my pinkie finger to fix a slight smudge of the dark red Yves Saint Laurent coloring my lips. It feels so strange, wearing my expensive makeup and slinky La Perla lingerie under my little black Moschino dress in a disgusting, barely-functional roach motel like this. I bought these things to impress my classmates and fellow fledgling socialites, my high-end friends. Shopping on Fifth Avenue was just part of my persona, the reputation I built for myself. It was expected of me then. Just a given. The lingerie I bought a couple weeks ago in anticipation of the time I would inevitably find myself stripping down for Bruno. It was a distant dream then, something I suspected would happen once we’d been together for a year or so. Once things smoothed out and we could see each other more regularly. I was already planning a life with him. Sixteen years old and in love and so, so stupid.

Now I just want to rip off the lacy bra and panties and toss them in the dumpster below the window of this horrible motel room. I can’t believe how different I am now from the girl I was just a few days ago. I still had dreams then. I was so certain of how my life was going to play out. Even though it had been weeks since I last heard from Bruno, I was still holding out hope that he would show up and sweep me off my feet. I was thinking about the future, not realizing that even my present was in jeopardy. Everything I had, everything I was, I took it for granted.

Not anymore. Maybe this is payback for how wonderful my life was up until a few days ago. I was so fortunate, with my loving parents and my fancy apartment and my designer clothes. I never wanted for anything. I can admit it now easily: I was spoiled.

I guess it makes sense that now I’m being punished. Good luck or good karma or whatever you want to call it… can’t last forever, can it?

It used to be that my job was just to get good grades, make myself appealing to colleges, maintain my looks, and stay out of any major trouble. I used to think all of that was so boring, so mundane. Now I would give anything to go back in time and slide back into that comfortable, dull life.

Tonight I have a different responsibility. Claudio drilled it into my head.

I am here to seduce a client. Well, not so much a client, as a victim of the mafia. A man who owes them money and has a penchant for underage girls. In other words, a complete and total scum bag in every imaginable way. I’m posing as a sex worker tonight, pretending to be something I absolutely am not. For god’s sake, I’m a virgin. I mean, I’ve seen movies. I’ve read books and magazines. I haven’t been living under a rock or in a convent for my whole life. I get the idea, the general setup I’m in right now. But I’m not prepared for it.

Of course, Claudio told me that I won’t have to actually go through with it. I’m just supposed to act as bait, lure the guy into a false sense of security. I’m supposed to distract him and make him think he’s in for a treat.

I shudder involuntarily. Ugh. Gross doesn’t even begin to cover it.

And once the guy is totally vulnerable, caught up in the game, Claudio said that’s when the Costa boys, his associates, will swoop in to “take care” of the guy. I honestly don’t want to know what exactly that entails. I just hope my part in this will have ended by that point. It’s bad enough I have to pretend to seduce the guy. I know I don’t have what it takes to actually hurt him or anything. I just hope to god he doesn’t touch me.

But that’s too much to hope for, I think. And I doubt that tonight will be the end of my servitude to the Costa family. It’s too easy. They’ve caught me, killed my father, distanced me from my mother—I have no idea what’s happened to her—and they have so much rage toward my family. I know they won’t be finished with me after tonight. Who knows how many more nights I’ll have to do this very same thing?

Or worse?

Claudio and Dino didn’t explicitly tell me I’m going to have to work for them more after tonight, but I can put two and two together. If my dad really did take that much money away from them, then surely one night isn’t enough to repay his debts. They probably just think they can trick me into thinking this is the only thing I’ll have to do for them. I know they think I’m stupid. And maybe I am. For believing that my father was a good, clean guy, that our good fortune was well-earned and deserved. For thinking that my amazing life could go on forever that way.

Nope. Tonight is just the beginning.

That thought makes me feel weak. Lost. Full of despair. My life as I knew it is over. This new, horrible chapter is on page one, and I dread reading the rest of the book. Sure, I could try to make a run for it. Climb out the window and shimmy down to the street. Beg somebody to let me in their car and drive me to the police station. But I know I wouldn’t make it that far. I can’t see where they are, but I know Claudio and Dino are close by, watching and waiting for the moment to strike. They’d stop me before my shoes even touched the pavement. There is no escape.

A bright light flashes through the window and I rush over to look outside. There’s a beat-up truck pulling into a parking spot below. A dark green truck. The driver steps out and my heart sinks as I recognize that he fits the description of the mark for tonight. A tallish man with a potbelly. Balding. A graying mustache on his paunchy face.

That’s the guy.

My pulse quickens and I start to panic. It’s happening. It’s really happening. I feel my knees buckle beneath me and I stagger backward, grabbing hold of the chipped counter of the kitchenette, trying to steady myself. I close my eyes and count slowly to ten. It’s something I read online once, that when you’re having a panic attack you’re supposed to try and clear your mind and just focus on counting. Focus on the numbers. Slow your breathing down. Find your center and push away your surroundings.

But there’s no pushing away this world around me. I glance out the window again. The man is gone, clearly on his way through the building to get to me. “Oh god,” I mumble, nervously tucking the loose tendrils of hair back behind my ears. My hair is pulled back into a messy half-updo, which Claudio suggested. I wonder how I’m supposed to act when the guy gets here. I know he’s going to knock five times and then I let him in. I’m supposed to smile. Be coy, but available. Vulnerable, but not easy. I’m supposed to be the innocent young girl, but still be sexy.

I’m not sure I know how to do any of that. But there’s a knock at the door, followed by four more crisp knocks, and I know I have to try. It’s time.

With my blood rushing in my ears I walk over and undo the three locks, opening the door to allow the man inside. I plaster a smile on my face and greet him.

“Good evening,” I say, willing my voice to stay strong. I have to act natural.

The man steps inside and immediately looks me up and down, his eyes drinking in my tight little body, my breasts squished together in my fancy bra, the glittery lotion on my skin, the way the straps of my black dress slip ever so seductively off my shoulders when I shrug.

“You’re much prettier than what I’m used to,” the guy says lewdly. “The agency did really good this time. All along I thought they was sending me their best, but it looks like they’ve been holdin’ out on me. You new or somethin’?”

For a moment my voice seems to have disappeared. The guy stares at me expectantly.

“Oh, uh, yes. I-I’m brand new. Just started,” I reply. “You’re—you’re the first.”

A huge grin splits his face and he crosses his arms over his broad chest. “Oh, I am, am I?”

I nod and smile, taking a few steps backward. “Yep. Yes. So if I’m a little nervous, that’s why. I-I’m sorry if you were expecting someone more experienced.”

“No, no. The greener the better,” he says, a predatory flash in his beady eyes. “I’ve been hopin’ for an opportunity to break a girl in. It’s an honor.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll do my best not to disappoint,” I respond, desperately looking for some way to stall. It occurs to me how little I know of the plan tonight. How far am I supposed to let this go before Dino or Claudio or whoever is out there steps in to take over? I’m not prepared for this.

“Well? Let’s get started then. I paid for an hour and I intend to make every second count,” the guy remarks, rubbing his hands together. I freeze up, glancing around nervously. But I have to try to be calm. If this guy catches on and realizes something is up, who knows how badly this could turn out. If I let the mafia down… I hate to think what they’ll do to me.

“Okay. Yeah, um, just m-make yourself comfortable,” I suggest with a smile. I throw in a wink for good measure and gesture toward the bed. To my relief, he follows my instruction and walks over to sit down on the edge of the mattress, starting to take off his boots.

But when he begins to unzip his slacks, my stomach turns. I feel like I might vomit. This is all getting far too real now. I can’t do this. I can’t.

But I have to.

“Wait!” I interject, and the guy looks up at me with a confused, slightly put-off look on his ugly face. “Um, let me… let me dance for you first.”

The guy sits up and fixes me with a suspicious look. Then he shrugs. “You’re a little awkward. I can tell you’re a beginner. But why not. Go on then.”

With my heart racing, I take a deep breath and start to sway, shaking my hair down out of its updo to fall in loose waves around my shoulders. I turn around and move my hips slowly, shaking my ass for this complete stranger. I move this way for a minute or so, turning in circles, raising my arms up over my head, tousling my hair, blowing kisses. I feel incredibly stupid, like it’s obvious how inexperienced I am. I know this isn’t going to keep him entertained for long. After all, he didn’t come here for an amateur burlesque show. He came here to fuck me.

I keep hoping that any second now, the Costa guys are going to burst through the door and end this charade before it goes much further. But the seconds tick by with no sign of the cavalry. I’m alone here with this guy, and I have to up the ante or he’ll get suspicious. Or worse... angry.

So I bite the bullet and start sliding the straps of my Moschino dress down my shoulders, peering back at him coyly. I bite my lip and look down at the floor, trying to glance up at him through my eyelashes like a sexy girl in a movie. The guy is watching me with a hungry expression on his face, his jaw twitching slightly as though he’s trying to rein himself in. I rotate back to face him, curling my fingertips over the bottom hem of my dress to slowly slide it up my thighs, exposing myself in tiny increments. I’m doing my best, even though I have no real idea what is supposed to happen here, but I can tell it’s not enough.

He wants more. He’s expecting much more than this.

“Take it off,” the man says gruffly, waving his hand in a forbidding gesture.

“I-I, uh, I’m a little shy,” I stammer quietly, feeling my face turning bright pink. His eyebrows furrow together and he narrows his eyes.

“Shy? In this business? You’ll get over that fast,” he comments. Then he stands up, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I can help you get over it.”

As he takes a step toward me, I reflexively take a step back. A flash of anger flickers in his eyes and he walks toward me more aggressively. I fall back and shake my head, feeling my stomach turn with dread and anxiety.

“No. Please don’t,” I murmur helplessly. It’s getting hard to breathe, my heart is pounding so fast and hard. “I-I’m a virgin.”

The man stops in his tracks for a moment, staring at me blankly. Then he grins, a shark-like, ravenous smirk. “You know, I’ve had other girls feed me that line before, but I never believed any of ‘em. But you… I believe you. I bet you really are a virgin, aren’t you?”

Instantly I realize that was the wrong thing to say. It was a reflex, an instinct to plead for mercy. But it’s had the opposite of the effect I hoped for. He doesn’t pity me... he just wants me even more. He wants a virgin.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this,” I whisper, my throat tightening so it’s difficult to even get a word out. The guy shakes his head and quickly closes the space between us, his hands falling on my shoulders in a tight grip.

“I didn’t pay for an hour of teasing and moping,” he snarls, leaning in close to my face. “I paid to fuck a pretty girl for an hour. Do whatever I want with her. I don’t give a shit if you’re a virgin. I don’t care who you are or what you want. For this hour, you belong to me.”

He easily rips the straps of my dress and starts yanking it down my body as I whimper, tears springing to my eyes. This is it. I can’t fight him. It occurs to me that maybe this was the plan all along. I’m not here as bait. Claudio and Dino brought me here to be punished, to be some gross, horrible man’s sex toy. I bet they’ve got some candid camera set up somewhere in this shitty motel room so they can watch, get their sick, sadistic pleasure out of watching me suffer.

The john scoops me up and throws me over his shoulder, roughly carrying me across the room and tossing me onto the lumpy mattress. The tears fall heavily now, and I don’t make any effort to stop them. It doesn’t matter if I cry or not. This guy is going to fuck me anyway.

He starts to crawl over me, stripping off his jeans as he comes my way.

In this moment, I wish I were dead.

Bang!

I scream and scramble backward against the headboard in fear at the deafening sound from across the room. The man turns around, bewildered, and we both see it at the same time: someone has burst through the door, through the various deadlocks, and is barreling across the room toward the bed.

“What the hell,” mutters my attacker, swiftly pulling his jeans back up and reaching down into one of the back pockets to pull out a small, shiny metal object. My heart does a somersault as I realize it’s a gun. But before he can turn and aim, the dark figure quickly grabs the john by both arms and jerks him off the bed, wrestling him down onto the filthy carpet. The gun goes flying across the room, sliding across the linoleum of the kitchenette area. I flatten myself down on the bed, my instincts warning me that it might go off, like it does on television. Amazingly, it doesn’t.

“What the fuck is this? Some kind of sting operation?” shouts the john. He protests furiously, flinging his legs and arms around in a vain attempt to throw off his assailant, changing his story every couple seconds. “I wasn’t gonna do anythin’ to her! That girl... she—she’s my daughter. No harm, no foul. Okay, she’s not my daughter, but we—we’re on a date! It’s all consensual, I met her at a bar. I ain’t a pedophile, man! And she said she was eighteen!”

I’m so in shock that it takes me a full ten seconds to register what’s happening. I went from being in fear of imminent sexual assault to complete and utter confusion. I don’t know if this is following the script Claudio led me to expect. And the man who burst into the room isn’t Claudio. It isn’t Dino.

But he’s not a stranger either.

I realize with a jolt that nearly knocks me backward.

It’s Bruno.

* * *

Bruno has my disgusting john pinned to the floor, the guy’s flabby arms twisted behind his back with his face pressed into the stained carpet. I quickly move closer to the end of the bed to see what’s going on. Just in time to see Bruno calmly, smoothly wrap his hands over each side of the guy’s head and twist it violently, fatally to the left with a sickening crack.

“Oh my god!” I shriek, feeling bile rise in my throat as I clap a hand over my mouth. Bruno looks up at me, his green eyes flashing aggressively. He doesn’t look like the romantic, attentive guy I shared a candlelit dinner with weeks ago. He doesn’t look like the sweet, smooth-talking boy who poured me an illegal drink in the back of a construction van over the summer. This Bruno is a different one. A stranger. Someone I should never be involved with.

He looks… like a cold-blooded killer.

Who is this guy? Where is the Bruno I fell for? Have I been wrong this whole time? Is he involved with all this… this crap? Is he a mobster, too?

But then, just as quickly as it arrived, the darkness in his eyes fades away and he blinks a few times, clearly confused. He cocks his head to one side, never looking away from my face.

“Serena…?” he murmurs, like he just can’t seem to understand how he’s seeing me in this context. Like he doesn’t believe I’m really here. The feeling is mutual.

He stands up, brushing off his hands on his dark pants. He’s wearing all black, with a hooded sweatshirt hugging his muscles. He slowly steps around the fresh corpse on the floor and walks over to the side of the bed, his eyes locked onto mine. But I’m still afraid. I just watched the boy I thought was my prince charming kill a man with his bare hands. Sure, the guy was a slimy scumbag and it’s probably better that he’s no longer a threat to the community, but… still. That’s generally an issue for the justice system to handle, not some handsome teenaged vigilante.

“Serena, what are you doing here? How did you—? Is this—?” he asks, shaking his head in confusion but never able to finish a whole question. I can feel the tears wet and sticky on my cheeks as I scoot backward away from him.

“Is he—is he dead?” I whisper, my whole body shivering. It isn’t cold. I’m just terrified.

Bruno nods. “Yes. He’s dead. Clean and easy. That fucker can’t hurt you anymore. Did he—did he hurt you?”

“He tried to,” I answer meekly.

“Merda, Serena. I wish I’d gotten here faster,” he says bitterly. He reaches out to touch my face but I shy away. I can see the hurt in his eyes. “You’re safe now. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, but you just described a murder as clean and easy,” I snap, my voice muffled slightly by sobs. “I-I don’t understand what is going on. How did you find me?” I question, feeling totally confused.

“Don’t worry about that right now. You’re shivering. Where are your clothes?”

I point wordlessly across the room to the ripped and torn Moschino dress crumpled up on the floor. Bruno looks over at it and sighs, his jaw tightening with anger. “I’m so sorry he did that to you,” he says softly. Turning back to me, he adds, “Take my hoodie.”

He takes it off and gently hands it out for me to take, respecting my boundaries. I put it on and slide off the bed to stand up. The sweatshirt is huge on me, nearly falling to my knees. I zip it all the way up to my neck. Bruno and I stare at each other for a long moment, him too afraid to frighten me further, and me trying to decide how I feel. I’m so confused and overwhelmed. Is he one of them? Everything is happening so quickly and I don’t know who I can trust.

But right now, I know what I need.

I race around to the other side of the bed, flinging myself into Bruno’s arms. He holds me tightly as I sob, running his hands down my back, smoothing my hair. “It’s okay. I’m never going to let those fuckers hurt you again. You’re safe with me. I don’t know how this happened, but I’m damn well going to fix it.”

I push back to look up into his face. He’s gazing down at me with immense pain in his green eyes. Those beautiful eyes. “I’m going to make this right,” he says resolutely.

There’s a soft patter of footsteps and I seize up with terror, leaning around to look toward the door. There are two men coming in, walking softly. They’re also dressed in all black, but carrying duffel bags which they set down on the floor. They pull their sleeves back to reveal bright yellow gloves, like the kind our maid wears to clean the bathrooms.

“Bruno,” I murmur, frightened.

“It’s okay. They’re the sweepers. They’re just here to clean up the scene, make all of this go away so nobody finds out what happened,” he explains calmly.

I have so many questions. Why is he so calm? How does he know what’s going on? Why is he involved with something this horrible? How many times has he done this before?

And most terrifyingly, what does this mean for us?

“Come on,” Bruno says, interrupting my dark train of thought. “Let’s get you out of here.”

He puts an arm around me protectively and leads me out of the room. As we walk out, one of the sweepers says, “You know what to do.” Bruno stops for a moment and nods, without looking back at the sweepers, who have already begun the unenviable task of cleaning up a murder scene. Bruno and I walk out of the motel and into a big black company car not unlike the one that picked me up from school what seems like ages ago.

I slip into the passenger seat, pulling my knees up to my chest. Bruno turns the heat on, noticing that I’m still trembling. “What did he mean by that?” I ask suddenly.

“What?”

“That guy—the sweeper—he said you know what to do. What is that? What are you supposed to do with me?” I press on, reluctantly looking over at him across the console. He heaves a deep breath. Then he looks back at me, with a weary look on his face.

“Serena, I never wanted to get into this shit. I mean it. I don’t want you to have the wrong idea, okay? Let me explain,” he begins. I wait patiently. When he realizes I have nothing to say, he goes on. “Things are not good back home. In Italy. My family is poor, very poor, and the mafia runs everything back home. All the guys my age are being sucked into some really dark shit. There’s just no other way to go. There’s no alternative. But my parents, they didn’t want me to fall into all that, so they sent me here to America, to work for my uncle. To give me a chance at a clean life. Only, the problem is, it’s expensive to come here. I needed a passport and a visa and a plane ticket. Those things cost so much money, Serena, and my parents didn’t want me to know how much they were sacrificing for me to have this shot at a better life here in New York.

“I’m glad I came here. I have a job. There are so many opportunities. I met you. But as it turns out, my parents didn’t have the money to send me here on their own, so they had to ask the mob for money. To save me from the mafia, they put themselves in debt to them, thinking they could just pay it off over time. If I had known what kind of risks they were taking to send me here I would never have agreed to leave Italy, but they kept it hidden from me. My parents didn’t want me to worry, and besides, they expected they could take care of it without my ever needing to find out. But it didn’t work out the way they planned. Things have gotten worse since I left, and now the mafia is calling in those debts all at once. My parents can’t pay. My uncle can’t pay. And the mafia came to me out of the blue, threatening to kill my uncle and my whole family back home if I don’t pay them back myself,” Bruno says, gritting his teeth.

I reach over and set my hand on his arm. He takes my hand in his and squeezes it tight.

“Apparently, the Costa family sees something in me. They think they can turn me into some kind of mindless soldier or mercenary. I get it. They think I’m just some dumb kid who will do whatever they tell me to do. I’m the right age. I’m the right type. And they have leverage, Serena.” He looks over at me meaningfully. “I can’t let them hurt my family.”

“Of course not,” I murmur softly.

“So they came to me with a proposition, a way to clear my debts. I was told to come to this location. They gave me a room number and a time. They made me kill that guy tonight,” he says.

“Well, then,” I start slowly. “That means it’s over. Right? You did it. You—you killed that guy. He’s dead. It’s all done now. Your debt is cleared. Maybe mine is, too.”

The look on Bruno’s face breaks my heart. It clearly hasn’t occurred to him until now that the mafia is the reason I was here tonight, too. I stare down at my lap, fighting back tears as I begin to explain. “Turns out I had a debt, as well. My father’s debt. Apparently, all these years he’s been stealing money from the mafia. All this time I thought my dad was just a great businessman, maybe with some sketchy associates, but still a businessman at the heart of it. But I was wrong, I guess. He’s been keeping this from me my whole life. And now it’s over. They killed him. My father. He’s dead now. I never even got to say goodbye.”

“Serena, I’m so sorry,” Bruno says, squeezing my hand. “I had no idea.”

“Me neither,” I reply bitterly. I take a deep breath and force myself to stop crying. I’m running out of tears at this point anyway. There’s nothing else to be done about it. I have to be strong. “Anyway, I guess it’s over now. I did what Claudio told me. I was… I was bait for that horrible guy. I was supposed to pretend to be a sex worker and make him think he was gonna get lucky, you know. And I did. I fulfilled my end of the bargain. Now both of us are free.”

To my dismay, Bruno shakes his head. “It’s not over yet.”

“What do you mean? We both followed orders. It’s done.”

“No, Serena. Killing that fucker was only half of my instructions. I was supposed to come here, kill the john, and take the… the girl to a drop point,” he reveals.

I feel my skin go cold. “Wait. So, you’re supposed to take me away… back to—”

“Back to the mafia. Yes,” Bruno says sorrowfully.

“They were never going to let me go, were they?” I ask quietly.

“I don’t think so. You—what you represent—you’re too valuable. I think they’re planning to make you do this again and again. And the other times, you might not just be acting as bait. Serena. I think they want you to do what you were pretending to do tonight, but for real.”

Suddenly I feel like I might vomit, and I grind my teeth hard until I regain my composure. I look over at Bruno, resigning myself to whatever fate I have to embrace. It’s out of my hands. It’s out of Bruno’s hands, too. This is bigger than both of us.

“I understand. Do what you have to do,” I tell him emphatically.

He blinks in confusion for a moment, narrowing his eyes. Then it dawns on him what I’m saying, and he shakes his head vigorously. “No. No, Serena. That’s not how it’s going to happen. I’m not going to just hand you back to the wolves like they want me to. Fuck that. I agreed to this before I knew... before I had any idea you were involved. I can’t believe I accepted this fucking offer in the first place. They used me.”

“They used both of us,” I mutter sadly. “And I can’t let you disobey them. They’ll kill your family, Bruno. They already killed my father. Hell, for all I know, they killed my mother, too. But you still have a family. People who care about you. Don’t sacrifice them to save me. I’m not worth it, Bruno.”

He glares out the window for a minute or so, not replying. Then, suddenly, he jams the keys into the ignition and fires up the engine. The car peels out of the motel parking lot and down the street. My heart sinks. He’s doing what he has to do, I tell myself. I can’t hold this against him.

The car rumbles down the highway back into the city, leaving the motel far behind us as I fall silent, trying to keep myself from crying. I already told him I’ll accept whatever punishment is coming my way. I won’t go back on that promise. But after some time, it occurs to me that Bruno doesn’t seem to be driving me to some mysterious location. We take a turn toward Manhattan and I realize we’re going toward my apartment. Why would the drop point be anywhere near my house? Aren’t the police looking for me at this point? It seems too risky. Suddenly, Bruno’s deep voice punctures the silence.

“I’ll be damned if I let those fuckers turn me into a monster. I can’t hurt you, Serena. I refuse to. They can threaten my life and my family’s lives, but I won’t let them turn me against the only girl I care about,” Bruno says angrily.

“What? But you said I’m too valuable. They’re not just going to give me up that easily,” I protest. A crazy, impossible idea pops into my head. “But what if we just run away? We—we can go somewhere far off, where they’ll never find us. We’ll leave all of this behind and start over.”

“Serena, I wish we could do that. I would do it in a heartbeat if I thought it would work. But this is the mafia. They have people everywhere, in the least likely of places. We could run, but we could never hide from them. Even if we had all the money in the world, they would find us, and we’re both broke now,” he explains.

“Then what are we going to do?” I ask. Bruno is silent again, thinking.

Finally, he answers. “They made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, and now it’s my turn to do the same. I think I know a way to make myself more valuable to them than you are. In fact, I have a feeling I might be the one they’re after in the first place” he growls. He takes out one of his usual burner phones and dials a number quickly, putting the phone to his ear.

“Who are you calling?” I whisper, bewildered.

“I demand to speak to Claudio,” Bruno says into the receiver. “No, you don’t need to ask who the fuck I am. Claudio will know. Let me speak to him. Now.”

My heart races. Why the hell is he calling Claudio? What is he doing?

There’s a pause and then I hear the faint crackle of a different male voice from the phone, even though I can’t make out the words he’s saying. Bruno replies in Italian, “This is Bruno Lomaglio, you fucking scab. You’ve been a big talker up until now, but this time it’s your turn to shut the fuck up and let me talk. Listen to me! I know what game you’re playing. I know what you really want, and it isn’t Serena De Laurentis. I am an asset, and all of you Costa fuckers know that. So, I’m going to make you an offer. If you swear to leave Serena and her mother alone, you will get something so much better in return. Do you understand what I’m giving you? I will work for you. Full-time. I’ll steal. I’ll fight. I’ll snap whatever neck you want snapped. I’ll belong to you. I’m from the old country, and my actions tonight should be more than enough to prove how valuable I can be. You let Serena go, and you can have me instead. As if that wasn’t exactly what the fuck you planned all along, you fucking snake.”

The car slams to a stop at the curb outside of my apartment building, and I sit completely frozen in place, staring at Bruno in shock. The voice on the other end of the line is speaking, but I can’t make out the words. Bruno closes his eyes and lets out a deep exhale. “Si, bene. Per sempre. Lo giuro,” he says resolutely.

I wish desperately I could understand what he said.

And then, he hangs up the call with a click. The phone slides out of his hand and down into the seat. “Bruno… what did you just do?” I ask breathlessly. He turns to slowly face me, giving me a faint smile. His eyes are shining.

“It’s over. You never have to worry about any of this again,” he says.

“What do you mean? You didn’t answer my question. What did you do?” I repeat, beginning to panic. Bruno reaches over and touches my face softly, lovingly.

“Your mother is upstairs in your apartment. She is unharmed. Go up and see her. I’m sure she is worried sick about you,” he says, still avoiding the question.

I shake my head. “No. No, you didn’t…”

“Serena,” he interjects firmly, “please don’t argue with me. I did what needed to be done. It’s what they wanted, what they expected anyway. You were just a pawn. This was never about you, understand? They just used you to get to me. And it worked.”

“Bruno! You can’t!” I burst out. “I won’t let you!”

“It’s already done. I told you, it’s over. It was my choice, and I made it. I chose you.”

Tears burn in my eyes and this time I just let them fall. “It’s not fair. They can’t do this— we’ll just go to the police. We’ll fix this. We—”

“No, Serena. No police. Don’t even think about it. This arrangement is… delicate. The Costa family need to know that they can trust me. I’m brand new. I pulled a power play by making this call tonight, and I need to build back that trust before anything else can happen,” Bruno explains. “You’re free now, mia passerotta. You’re going to survive.”

“Without you,” I murmur, my voice cracking into a sob. “I will never be free, not without you. I can’t. I won’t.”

Bruno gives me a warm, pitying smile and smooths the hair back from my face.

“Serena, listen to me. I could never turn you over to them. And even if I did, they would never let me go. Don’t you see? This was the whole point. To make me give in. To bring me to my knees. I was never going to get out of this. But I found a way to get you out, and that’s what I need you to focus on. Please,” he adds, tracing his finger down my cheek to land on my bottom lip. I gently kiss the tip of his finger, closing my eyes. I can feel my heart shattering into pieces, but I know he’s right. There’s nothing I can do to change this.

I open my eyes again and Bruno pulls me close, pressing his lips against mine in a soft, passionate kiss. When he breaks away, he says softly, “The best thing you can do now is leave. Go. Live your life. Try to forget any of this ever happened. And if you can… forget me, too.”

“I don’t think I ever could,” I reply, leaning my forehead against his.

“Serena, my world has been so bright since you came into it. You’ve given me exactly the kind of hope and happiness my parents wanted me to find here in America. But some things, dark things, have followed me all the way from across the ocean. I refuse to let those dark things overshadow your light like they have mine,” Bruno tells me.

“You can’t do this,” I protest weakly, shaking my head as the tears drip down onto the slick leather seats. Bruno gets out of the car and comes around to open the passenger side door, pulling it open and holding out his hand for me. Reluctantly, I take it and let him pull me to my feet. The cool night air breezes around my legs and I shiver. The city feels so huge and dark, like a monster waiting to swallow me up as soon as Bruno disappears.

“You escaped a terrible fate tonight, mia passerotta,” he says. “But I would be an even worse fate for you than that.”

“I don’t want to forget you,” I tell him tearfully. He kisses me on the forehead, then peers into my face with those green eyes nearly glowing in the dim light.

“Try,” he says simply. And with that, he walks back to the driver’s side, slides behind the wheel, and drives away, leaving me standing alone on the sidewalk in the darkness.