Chapter 65 The run
Lina’s POV
The service lift groaned like it was protesting my existence. I held the railing as it rattled downward, metal scraping against metal, each second stretching too long. Above me, faint but unmistakable, Carlino’s voice cut through the house.
Controlled.
Deadly.
“Lock the gates.”
The words weren’t shouted. They didn’t need to be.
The words were rather commanded. Coldly.
The lift jerked to a stop.
I pushed the door open into the dim pantry, the scent of flour and dried herbs hitting my nose. Voices echoed from the kitchen beyond. Bella was laughing too loudly — forced, nervous, bright, wrong.
She was buying me time.
Another voice thundered from somewhere deeper in the house.
“Find her.”
My pulse spiked.
I slipped through the pantry and into the back corridor, keeping my head down. Acting all cool, like I wasn't the one they guards were combing the house for.Two kitchen maids rushed past me toward the front hall, whispering.
“She fainted in front of the Ghost—”
Why are they addressing him as the ghost?
“Signor is furious—”
Good. Let them think I was fragile.
The back service door loomed ahead. I pushed through it into the night air. Gravel crunched under my bare feet.
The courtyard lights were still on, but the house behind me had shifted. Guards were moving now. Faster. Radios crackled. Engines roared to life.
My head feels light. My body didn't feel like mine. But I didn’t look back. I can't afford to.
The laundry van waited near the service gate, white and unmarked. The driver stood outside, cigarette between his fingers. He looked up as I approached — confusion flashing across his face.
“You’re not supposed to be here, Donna,” he said immediately.
“Bella sent me,” I replied, breathless. “She said you’d take me.”
His expression hardened. “Take you to where?”
“Away.” I stepped closer. “Anywhere. Just drive.”
He glanced toward the house. Through the trees, lights flicked on one by one like warning signals. “You need to get in the van,” I pressed. “Now.”
“I work for the Don,” he snapped. “I don’t move without his orders.”
“Bella said—”
“Bella doesn’t give me orders.”
The gate behind him began sliding open, guards repositioning.
“Please,” I said, lowering my voice. “If I stay, it won’t end well.”
“For you?” he asked bluntly.
“For anyone.”
He flicked his cigarette away, jaw tightening. “You think I’m stupid? If I drive you out without clearance, he’ll bury me.”
“I’ll tell him I forced you,” My voice came out desperate.
He barked a humorless laugh. “You think that matters?”
From inside the house, a crash echoed — glass shattering.
Carlino.
Even from this distance, I could feel it. The shift in the air. The tightening. The driver pulled his phone from his pocket.
“I’m informing him,” he said. “You shouldn’t even be out here.”
“No.”
I reached for his wrist. He jerked away. “You don’t understand—”
“What I understand,” he cut in, already dialing, “is that if the Donna is standing at a service gate asking to disappear, something is very wrong.”
“Don’t do this,” I warned.
He lifted the phone to his ear. “Don—”
I didn’t wait.
I shoved him hard enough that he stumbled backward into the van door. His phone slipped from his hand and hit the gravel.
“You just made this worse!” he shouted.
“Then don’t follow me, motherfucker.”
I turned and ran.
Behind me, his voice rose. “She’s heading east side! Toward the outer road!”
Engines roared louder now.
I ran harder.
The grounds stretched farther than they ever had before. The manicured hedges blurred past. My lungs burned. My dress tangled around my legs, but I didn’t stop to fix it.
“Seal the perimeter,” Carlino’s voice carried across the night.
It was closer now.
God.
No. Please.
I cut sharply toward the darker side of the property, where the trees thickened near the old stone wall. Guards were flooding the main drive, not the side grounds. They expected panic.
They expected me to make it easy. I vaulted over a low hedge and nearly slipped on damp grass. A flashlight beam swept across the lawn behind me.
“There!” someone yelled.
Gunfire didn’t follow.
Carlino wouldn’t risk it.
Not unless he had to.
I reached the stone wall, fingers scraping against rough surface until I found the narrow gap near the drainage ditch. I’d seen gardeners use it once.
It was barely wide enough.
I squeezed through, tearing the side of my dress. Stone scraped my arms. For a second, I was stuck.
Then I pushed harder.
And I was through.
The other side dropped into a shallow embankment that led to a dirt road beyond the ground boundary. I slid down, catching myself at the bottom.
Shouts erupted behind the wall.
“She’s gone through!”
“Get around!”
They’d need vehicles to circle. It would take time.
Time I didn’t have.
I ran toward the road. Headlights suddenly cut across the darkness. My heart leapt into my throat.
A black SUV slowed near the shoulder, engine idling.
Not the laundry van.
Not a marked estate vehicle.
The windows were tinted.
I staggered to a stop, chest heaving. For a second, I considered turning back into the trees.
But just then the passenger window rolled down.
A man’s silhouette inside. Calm. Waiting.
“You look like you need a ride,” he said. His voice was smooth. Unfamiliar. Face hidden in the dark.
“I don’t know you,” I replied, stepping back.
Behind me, distant engines approached from the Carlino's side.
“You don’t have time to get to know me.”
My pulse hammered. My thoughts are scattered.
“Are you with him?” I demanded.
A pause.
“That depends,” he said lightly. “Are you?”
Another set of headlights appeared far down the road — moving fast.
Carlino's vehicles.
The man in the SUV leaned slightly closer to the open window. I still couldn’t see his face clearly.
“If you stay standing there, you’ll be back in that house in under three minutes.”
He knows.
“And if I get in?”
“You won’t.”
Something in his tone made my stomach twist. Not cruel. Not kind either. Certain.
I hesitated one second too long.
The rear door clicked open from inside. I didn’t see who moved. Just a shift in the shadows.
I took one step back. I can't get in. He knows. Knowing means he has been watching. And watching means he has known either I or Carlino. And both options weren't in my favor.
Hands came from behind.
Fast.
A cloth pressed over my mouth. I thrashed, elbowing backward, catching someone in the ribs. A grunt. My heel came down hard on my foot.
“Hold her!”
The scent hit my lungs — sharp, chemical.
No.
No no no—
I bit down on the hand near my face. Hard.
A curse.
The cloth slipped slightly and I sucked in air, but another arm locked around my waist, lifting me clean off the ground.
The Carlino's headlights were closer now.
Through blurred vision, I saw the black SUV door still open.
Waiting.
“Move her in!” someone hissed.
I was thrown inside. The door slammed shut. Darkness swallowed me. The engine revved.
As the vehicle sped forward, I caught one last glimpse through the tinted glass — Carlino's cars were skidding onto the road, men spilling out with weapons drawn.
Too late.
The SUV accelerated in the opposite direction.
My vision swam. My limbs felt heavy.
I fought it. I fought the creeping fog in my mind.
This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. I was supposed to choose where I ran. I was supposed to have control.
The man in the front seat spoke calmly.
“Drive faster.”
A beat of silence.
Then, almost conversationally:
“Let’s see how badly Carlino wants what he’s lost.”
The words echoed in my fading consciousness.
Lost.
The last thing I felt was the steady motion of the car turning onto a highway far away from everything familiar.
Within seconds — Nothing.