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10
SUSPECT #1
CRISTINA
Severio remains at the villa overseeing the cleanup, his wounds plugged enough that they’re not bleeding. When they pick up Gio’s body, Severio closes his eyes for a moment. I think he grieves for his uncle, even if he’s the one who made me distribute the poison to see which of them would die.
That seems like it happened a year ago. Everything before the attempt on Severio’s life seems like it happened last year.
We’re sitting on the couch, which someone covered with plastic so we don’t stain it with blood. Gio’s body and the debris are cleaned up before the resort security arrives. Apparently, someone overheard some gunshots coming from this part of the property and called the front desk, who called Giuseppe Ionolo. We call him Peppe.
Corrado meets him and two other men at the door and tells them the gunshots came from “somewhere over there.” When Peppe refuses to leave, I’m afraid Corrado will shoot him. As I try to get up to answer the door, Severio clasps my wrist again. “Where are you going?”
“I want to talk to Peppe.”
“Who is that?”
“The security guard at the door.”
“Corrado will handle him.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Severio smiles. “He’ll settle it. Don’t worry. Birds are rarely Corrado’s targets.”
By birds, he means men and women who aren’t in the Order. I want to say he shot at me, but then remember I’m not a bird anymore. I’ve been well and truly initiated.
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask Severio.
“Maybe. Maybe not. You worried about me?”
“You saved my life.” He covered my body and took two bullets for me. He also protected me from Corrado, who would’ve ended me for sure. When he saw his wounded brother covered in blood, Corrado snapped. Gio was alive until Corrado unloaded an entire magazine into him. Had it not been for Severio’s protection, I would have ended up in the pile of bags Jesse took out minutes ago.
“Now, you owe me.” Severio’s cold again, the mask of the Order leader back on his face. I’m unsure if it ever slipped off. Owing Severio my life seems worse than dying. I shouldn’t think this way, but I’m thinking this way now that the most dangerous, and most resilient, man I know is telling me I owe him the fact I’m breathing.
Instinctively, I glance at the door.
Severio’s hand on the back of the couch moves to my nape, fingers tracing, then pinching my jaw with his thumb and forefinger, forcing my gaze back to him.
“I know you want to run,” he says. “I don’t blame you.”
“I don’t want to run. I have nowhere to go besides down the street to my house. I want to go home.”
“Smart girl. But in case you think about running, know that all your assets are frozen by now and the ones that aren’t will be. I will personally ensure you don’t leave my sight while I’m recovering.”
He reminds me of how he messed up my life. “Maybe you won’t recover.”
“Maybe you can pray for me.”
Dr. Tru walks in with two nurses, both of whom I went to school with. They’re identical twins, Nedda and Jacinta. Jacinta must have recently dyed her hair blonde. They’re carting in hospital equipment and setting up what looks like a mobile hospital.
Are they in the Order? I wonder.
Dr. Tru, our only surgeon on the island, drops his large duffel bag on the table.
“Cristina, darling, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I point at Severio. “He’s been shot.”
