"If we meet each other in Hell, it's not Hell."
- Geoffrey Hill
. . .
Dante Valentino
I glanced down at the tiny box on the desk. It was a beautiful, expensive ring - a ring fit for a queen - a ring I imagined adoring a hand much darker than the one it was meant to.
I closed the velvet box, slipping it into my pocket. I glanced at the screen of my phone. The seventh day was at its end. It was time.
It had been much time since Blue and I met. Just a little over a month. Yet it felt as if yesterday I was standing beside her near her father's grave, wondering why she was there. She had been dressed in a black, form-fitting dress with no hint of grief on her face.
I walked out of my office, feet light on the ground as I strolled to where I knew she'd be.
I opened the door of the theatre, peeking inside, and there she was, sitting on one of the recliners, scribbling on her notebook while a music video played on the screen. I stilled for a second, watching as the blue of the screen fell on her gently, lighting her up.
She noticed me. Her head lifted and she smiled at me. "Dante," she said. "Are you done?"
I nodded, walking inside. I closed the door behind me and sat down beside her. "What are you writing?"
"Journaling," she said. "Small things which come into my mind."
I nodded, curious but I didn't want to request her to let me see. There was no use in getting attached more.
I looked at my hands. My rings glinted in the light. "Your mansion sold."
I felt her freeze.
"Oh," she whispered. "How much?"
"Five million."
"That's too much, isn't it?"
"No." I glanced at her. She was frowning. "I have to ask," I said. "What do you plan to do?"
She closed her notebook, keeping her small hand on it. She took in a deep breath. "I know someone who can keep me safe, for a price."
"How much are they asking?"
"He is asking for fifty grand."
He.
I relaxed in my seat, watching her. "Who?"
"I don't want to tell you."
"Why?" I asked softly. "I am a threat to you now?"
Her frown deepened. "No, you're not. I just...he said I can't."
"I have a feeling this 'he' is not safe enough."
"I trust him."
My trigger finger twitched. "How do you need the money?"
"Cash," she said. "How about you keep the rest? I'll just take what I need for him."
"I'll keep it."
She gulped gently. "I should call him."
"Okay."
She met my eyes and I felt like she was going to say something. I silently hoped she would. But she just smiled. "I'll miss you."
I stood. "I'll be back tomorrow."
I walked out before she could say a word. I grabbed the box from my pocket and threw it in a dustbin, wondering why I had imagined her wearing it as soon as I got it.
Blue wasn't mine.
. . .
I looked at my bloodied knuckles and then at the man laying on the ground. His face was a red mess. I couldn't tell his features. I heard cheering in the background.
"Another," I said.
And there was another. My knuckles bled freely now, the red ivies wrapping around my forearm. The wound on my lower stomach ripped open. I fought too many. I killed too many. My body throbbed with pain.
"Dante!"
I looked out of the cage. She was there. Carla. She was younger. She was smiling at me. She waved a hand. "Dante!"
I blinked and she was gone as if consumed by nothing.
Someone called me again.
Fabiano grabbed my arm, pulling me out of the cage, off the man I had been fighting. I looked at the man. He had been dead for quite a while.
"Listen to me," Fabiano said quietly. "Get the fuck out of here before they conclude that you've gone mad."
I laughed. "I have gone mad."
"Go mad in private."
"Fuck off, Fabi."
I walked away, pushing people out of my way. Fabiano followed me.
"I am not going to kill anyone while taking a shower, Fabiano. Fuck off."
He grumbled something I didn't bother paying attention to. I took a shower, the water hitting my wounds just right.
When I walked out after wearing a pair of boxing shorts, he was there again, leaning beside the door.
He glared at me and looked at the ripped-open wounds on me. He frowned. "None of them had a knife," He said quietly.
"What are you doing here?"
"We need to talk."
I sighed. He always came when I didn't feel like talking to anyone.
We walked out. "What are you doing in Udine?" He asked.
"I can ask you the same thing."
"I went to your mansion first," he said, pausing in the middle of the parking lot. "I found your woman packing her bags."
"Fuck off, Fabiano. I don't see how this is any of your business."
"This is my business when you start piling up bodies in the fucking cage." He put his hands in his pockets. "Are you blind?"
"I can see your stupid face."
"Then why the fuck are you letting her leave?" He demanded. "Do you even know where she is going? Samuel is still out there."
"I can't stop her."
He just watched me. "You love being miserable," he said. "Happiness can smack you in the face and you'd be unable to see it. Let her go, by all means. Kill more men. Marry someone you can't stand. I'll stand and watch."
He walked to his car. He paused when he reached the dark vehicle. He looked over his shoulder, at me.
"You don't have to clean up our mess," he said quietly. "We got a shot at love, you deserve one too."
He drove away.
. . .
