escape | vento aureo

v. passione

After spending the entirety of yesterday at home, I prepare to get ready to visit Cirillo. He didn't specify a certain time, leaving me to assume that the bakery's open hours are a good time. I tie the long part of my hair into a ponytail to show off the undercut. I dress in a baggy sweater that shows off the slightest bit of midriff and a pair of cargo pants and combat boots. A glance in the mirror reveals that I look formless. I grab my house keys and head out the door.

The walk to the bakery takes about fifteen minutes, though it's longer today. The lingering pain in my right leg tells me to take it slow, and I have no objections. Upon entering Cirillo's business, Marissa says in her usual bored tone, "Buongiorno."

I repeat it back to her with a smile and approach the counter. "Is your father here this morning?"

She shakes her head. "He had to go unexpectedly yesterday. It's a shame; he really wanted to give you your tour of the mafia."

"Oh. I pray for his safe return," I reply, unsure of why he left.

"I'm not too worried about him. He's a tough guy." She then gives me a half-smile. "So you're a gangster now?"

"So much for trying to protect you from the mafia."

"Well, I had a boyfriend who was in Passione. He didn't spare any details." She makes a quick gesture with her eyebrows. "He's also dead now."

"I'm sorry." I tentatively grab one of her hands on the counter and squeeze it. My face flushes a bit when she smiles.

"Water under the bridge. He was an asshole anyway." Her expression then becomes serious. "Quinn, the mafia is no laughing matter. I don't want you to get hurt. It would . . . destroy my father. The last few guys he let in haven't lasted very long. He has such a big heart."

"I know. I'll be as careful as I can."

She flashes a half-smile. "So about your tour. My father called in another member of Passione. His name is Bruno Bucciarati, and he's known for being a good guy. Not that I've ever met him. I trust you can keep your little secret."

I nod. "That I can do."

Her eyes gaze over my shoulder. "I believe that would be him now." She pulls a book out from under the counter and immediately starts reading.

I turn around and see the man with brown pigtails standing beside the entrance. Illuso. Warmth spreads across my face when he smiles coldly. Oh, shit, oh f--

"Quinn, was it?" he asks, the cold smile still plastered onto his lips.

I subtly throw my shoulders back and approach him. "Yes. Illuso, I believe?"

"Guess you heard that while you were eavesdropping." That smile only becomes wider.

I need to get away from this guy. "Well, I prefer the term hiding."

"Call it what you want," he says. "Now, shall we?" He gestures toward the door.

"We shall."

******

I place a hand over my nose and mouth in an effort to quiet my breathing. My chest rises and falls erratically; a thin layer of sweat coats my skin, especially the back of my neck and palms. I hug my legs to my chest and bury my face in my knees. A crash outside the vent catches my attention, nearly sending a yelp from my mouth.

It happened faster than I'd expected.

We were walking down a crowded street as he explained the Passione hierarchy--capos and the different types of teams and such--when he slammed his hands into me. I fell into an empty alleyway. "Escape!" I began to shout, but he stepped on my throat and silenced me.