WAR AHEAD

WAR AHEAD


Layla's POV

Marcello was all bandaged up, a fashionable mummy. His arm was in a sling, a gauze pad was taped to his forehead, and his shirt hung loosely on his bruised body. The doctor had wanted to keep him an extra day, ordering more tests and observation, but Marcelo would have none of it, saying he couldn't take another minute in the hospital. Marcello hated the hospital. Said it reminded him of being powerless.

The only reason I was even able to make this possible was that I had been able to get in touch with one of his old servants. Someone loyal enough to go behind the backs of whoever had tried to sever Marcelo off. That servant got me in touch with the family's own doctor, who then arranged for Marcelo to receive the emergency treatment he so badly needed. If not for them, I don't think he would've made it. I was in shock when he passed out. I didn't know what to do, where to go, or even whether I should. The kidnapper who had abducted me had turned into someone I couldn't bear to lose.

I sat beside him in the rear of the car, my hands clasped tightly together in my lap. The driver never spoke, his face unreadable behind the wheel as we left the hospital and traveled toward what I assumed was the same hidden castle Marcelo had held me prisoner in before. That gloomy, isolated location I'd thought of as a prison. But right now, it was the one haven I knew.

I could have escaped when he fell unconscious. I should have. My mom would kill me if she ever found out that I had the perfect chance to escape my kidnapper, and instead, I remained. But something about Marcelo just kept pulling me in. Like a moth to a flame, I couldn't help myself. I hated that I didn't hate him anymore.

I gazed at him, his eyes staring straight ahead, but a gentleness was in his profile that I had not noticed before.

"Do you think Martina is okay now?" I asked gently. "What if something awful has happened to her?"

He didn't even glance at me. He just nodded. "She'll be fine. They're tough. I need you to be tough too. We now have more pressing things to concern ourselves with. If everything has gone according to plan, Antonio and Serafina should now be in the warehouse."

I blinked. "Warehouse? Wait, what do you mean Serafina is in a warehouse? Was she kidnapped too?"

He nodded decisively. "It's complicated, but yes. And we have to go get them."

I grabbed his arm. "Marcello, please. We have to save them. We have to go now."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Don't beg me, Layla."

I looked up at him with big, innocent eyes, and he laughed, his voice low and amused.

"You know," he said, "you tasted precisely as I imagined you would. No. that is not correct. You tasted better. Far better."

My cheeks flushed. I turned away, not being able to hide the blush that was making its way to my face. And then he leaned forward a bit, meeting the driver's eyes in the rearview mirror.

"Take us to warehouse 016442," Marcelo instructed, his tone suddenly stern. "Alleyway. You know the one."

The driver gave a firm nod, said nothing, and changed direction.

I stared at Marcelo. "Let’s go rescue your friends then."

He gave me a sideways glance, a ghost of a smile curling his lips. "I’m going to be in so much trouble for this. but you’re worth it."

I gave him a small, nervous smile in return.

The closer we got to the warehouse, the more I found myself becoming nervous. The building looked abandoned, a leftover from some dead trade or business that never was, with broken windows, rusted metal panels, and graffiti covering every spot available on its outside. It did not look like somewhere anyone should be.

Marcelo turned to face me, his expression severe. "Stay here. Don't move. Don't speak. Hide behind the dark glass. If anybody approaches the car, duck. Understand?"

I nodded vigorously. "Be careful."

The driver helped him, and I watched Marcelo limp his way to the building, painfully but resolutely. I could see only so much from where I stood. First, he was impeded by the guards. There was some reluctance, maybe a moment of suspicion or hesitation, and then they let him through.

Antonio's POV

Serafina's head was on my shoulder, her body trembling as I held her. I was saying over and over again that it was going to be okay, brushing strands of hair from her face, even as I gritted my teeth with every breath. My ribs were broken. My lip was busted. But she was alive, and that's all that mattered.

We had been here too long. The warehouse stank of oil and decay. Our captors hadn't made an appearance in a bit, and that concerned me more than any threat. Silence in a place like this was ominous.

The door groaned open abruptly.

I spun around, eyes narrowing. A man moved into the doorway, bracing one hand against the metal frame.

I knew him at once.

"Marcello?" I snarled, struggling to my feet, shielding Serafina behind me. "What the hell do you want from us?"

Marcelo took another step forward, a smile on his battered face.

"Easy," he said. "I'm not here to finish what they started. I'm here to rescue you. As it happens, I've got a very unhealthy obsession with someone who cares about you two far too much."

Antonio looked at him incredulously. "Layla sent you?"

Marcello nodded. "She practically dragged me here."

Serafina was on her feet now too, her eyes wide open. "Where is she? Is she alright?"

"She's in the car," Marcello informed her. "Hiding, because she was obstinate enough to accompany me but wise enough to stay out of immediate danger."

Antonio's eyes narrowed. "Why should we trust you?"

"Because I might have walked away," Marcelo said matter-of-factly. "I might've died in a hospital bed, but I didn't. I'm here. And we don't have time for this. We need to go now."

He turned and gestured with his hand, and some of the guards stepped forward, this time at Marcello's command. The tables had turned.

Layla's POV

I gazed at the warehouse with my heart in my throat. Every second was a year. I couldn't make out much, only shapes moving behind shattered windows and shattered doors.

At last, the door opened again.

Marcelo emerged first, slower now, leaning a little on one of the guards. Behind him, I saw Serafina and Antonio.

Alive.

I gasped, nearly opening the car door, but remembered his warning. I ducked a little as they approached.

The driver opened the back door and helped Marcelo in first. He got in beside me with a groan, his body practically folding in half. Then Antonio helped Serafina in. I met her gaze, and she smiled weakly.

"Layla," she whispered, then hugged me.

I couldn't hold back the tears. Not any longer. I hugged her hard, overwhelmed by it all.

Antonio sat in the passenger seat beside the driver, arms folded but his shoulders relaxing visibly.

"Where to now?" the driver asked.

Marcelo rested his head back. "Probably to hear up for the war ahead of us."

The driver nodded, and the car took off.

I sat close to Marcelo in the backseat, and he put his hand over mine. For a man so shattered, he was still the strongest human being I knew.

Serafina drifted off to sleep, her head on my shoulder. I didn't dare move. I didn't want to. Not yet. Not until I was sure everything was finally going to be all in right.

Marcelo looked at me, his voice low. "We'll survive this. All of us."

I nodded, holding his hand tight.