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“Fine, I’ll bite. Why?”
“She’s traumatized from what happened during her wedding to Pyotr. A strange man will frighten her—you’ll have to waste valuable time explaining that you’re there to rescue her and that it’s alright. She’ll see me and know that it’s safe. She’ll come with me.”
“We’re her father’s security,” Edgar says, exasperation still coloring his tone.
“You think she paid attention to all her father’s security well enough to know your faces? Especially when she’s been kept prisoner for days, afraid, with god knows what else happening to her. She won’t know who you are; she’ll just think you’re more of Igor’s men.”
“Igor will recognize you, if he sees you. His men likely won’t, except maybe ones who were at your house—” Edgar pauses, considering.
“The idea is not to be seen or noticed, correct?” I can see him faltering in his assurance that this is a bad idea, and I grasp the moment. “And we’ll be doing this late at night. As long as no alarms are raised, Igor shouldn’t be prowling the house. As long as I can avoid being noticed by anyone who might recognize me, I should be able to manage it.”
“It’s risky.” Edgar frowns.
“No matter who goes in, it’s risky.” I shake my head. “But this is the best way to make sure Bella knows we’re there to help. Time is the most important thing—getting in and out quickly.”
I can see Edgar mulling it over. The truth is that I’m technically the one in charge here—I could simply insist that I be the one to go, and put an end to it. But I’ve often found over the course of my life that it’s better to come to an agreement when working with others, rather than just giving orders. And I’d like Edgar and his men to want to stay and work with me, after. I have every intention of bringing them along to Italy as security, if they’re willing.
“Alright,” he says finally. “I’ve got experience driving in situations like these. I’ll handle the getaway car. We’ll wait here—” he points out a spot a brief distance from the shipment entrance for the wine cellar, “—and be ready to go as soon as you and Bella emerge. You’ll go in here.” He taps his finger against the line that marks the staff entrance. “You don’t want to enter and exit from the same position—if anyone were to notice something amiss when you come in, that spot where you entered will be where they go first. You’re less likely to run into trouble if you take a different route out.”
I nod, watching as he outlines a potential route from the staff entrance to Bella’s room, and then from there to the wine cellar. The last few days of watching the house has told us that it typically quiets down around eleven in the evening, so the plan that we outline involves my sneaking in just before then, and moving through the house while there are lower numbers of security and active staff, and Igor is less likely to be a problem.
Fortunately, I don’t have much time to think about the gravity of what we’re about to attempt—or the potential consequences of failure. There are too many moving pieces that I need to account for in the hours in between—arranging for my private jet to be ready as soon as we arrive on the tarmac, fueled and with an alert pilot, for transportation to get the children, Agnes, and Aldo there to meet us. Half the men are put on that duty, ready with a car to drive them there, and two others will accompany Edgar and I to be ready to go once I have Bella out of the mansion. I make sure all of the bags are packed—including what I retrieved from my house for Bella—and put Agnes in charge of ensuring that it all makes it to the jet.
When it’s getting close to time for me to leave, I pull Agnes aside, taking her into the connected room and closing the door.
“You and Aldo will take the children to the hangar with the men I’ve assigned to get you there,” I tell her, as calmly as I can manage. I can feel my pulse thumping, all of the ways that this could go wrong trying to crowd into my thoughts, but I resolutely push it back. The only way this will be successful is if I can keep a clear head. “This is dangerous, Agnes. I think you know that. But I can’t just leave Bella with him. What he’ll do to her?—”
“I know.” Agnes nods. “I’d never tell you to leave another woman in that situation, Gabriel. But Danny and Cecelia?—”
“Are in your charge, if I don’t come back.” I see her eyes widen, and I keep talking, before she can argue with me. “I’ve had paperwork drawn up for a long time to make you and Aldo their guardians, if anything were ever to happen to me for any reason. The house and property will go to the two of you as well, in trust until Cecelia and Danny are old enough to claim it as their inheritance.”
“Gabriel, that’s too much,” Agnes protests, and I shake my head.
“My parents trusted you both. So do I. I know you’ll take care of them, and I know you’ll make sure that they’re raised the way Delilah and I would have wanted.” I reach into my pocket, taking out a thick envelope that I hand to Agnes.
“What is this?” Her voice cracks slightly, and it’s then that I realize she’s trying not to cry herself. Her face doesn’t betray any of it, as stalwart as ever, but I can hear that slight tremor that gives it away.
“Letters for them, when they’re older, if I don’t make it back. I trust your judgment on when they’re old enough to read them.” I feel my own throat tighten and clear it, taking a deep breath. “I hope none of this is necessary. If all of our plans go as they should, none of it will be. But it’s better to be prepared.” I give her a tight smile. “Just in case.”
Agnes swallows hard, nodding. “I won’t let you down,” she says quietly. “We won’t.”
“I know.” I squeeze her shoulder, once, before heading to the other room where Cecelia is reading, Danny playing with his action figures on the carpet.
“I’m going to be gone for a little while,” I tell Cecelia, sitting down on the edge of the bed between them. “But I’ll be back in a few hours.” The possibility of it being a lie stings, but I tell myself that it’s not—not really. I have every intention of coming back, and I’m going to do everything within my power to do exactly that.
There are a hundred things I want to say to them, and I can’t say a single one without leaving them in fear that their father won’t be coming back. I can’t do that to them, not when their mother is gone too, not when Bella—the only other person besides me and Agnes and Aldo that they’ve grown that attached to—was taken away right in front of them. So, instead, I fold Cecelia into my arms, kissing the top of her head as I squeeze her tightly. And then I turn, scooping Danny up off of the carpet and into a hug as he laughs, completely unaware of the tension of the situation. I kiss the side of his head, too, setting him down next to Cecelia.
“Agnes and Aldo are going to get you to the plane for us to leave on our trip,” I explain, just before I get ready to go. “I’ll be there right after, with Bella.”
Danny nods, giving me another squeeze, but Cecelia eyes me with a shrewdness that feels too astute for her age. I can’t help wondering how much of that is because of what’s happened in the last few days, and I hate that that’s even in question. That there’s a possibility that Igor is responsible not only for the harm to Bella, but for forcing my daughter to grow up faster than she should ever have had to.
The thought makes me feel that cold flood of rage, all over again. And I can’t help thinking that even though it won’t be today, even though tonight is only about escape—one day, I’m going to make sure he pays for all of this. Somehow.
Once I figure out how to make sure it happens without harming anyone I love.
It all moves quickly, after that. I go down to meet Edgar, along with Joe and Zeke, the other of the men who will be accompanying us. A car is waiting, and I slide into the back, every muscle in my body wound tight.
I’m not armed—it would cause too much suspicion if anyone noticed, and in the end, if I’m caught, it won’t help me. This is a stealth mission, through and through, and I’m painfully aware of how little I know about how to pull something like this off. But it doesn’t matter.
