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I scream again, but it’s already too late.

The huge man leans in closer and pulls the syringe against my skin as the other man holds me in place. I feel the cold tip poke through my shirt as he pushes it against my arm, almost gently.

And then, he presses the needle in. It’s like my veins are on fire. It spreads through my arm, into my chest, down to my legs.

I scream again, louder, but it’s fading. My vision starts to blur.

Why does it hurt so much?

My body is going numb, no matter how much I try to fight it. I can’t stop it. My head feels heavy, like it’s sinking into quicksand, and my limbs won’t listen to me anymore.

The world turns fuzzy, and I can barely keep my eyes open.

I’m still screaming, but it doesn’t sound like me anymore. It’s far away.

I can’t breathe. I don’t want to stop fighting. I want to run. I want to see Nonna again, to say goodbye to Bea.

But my vision goes dark, and the last thing I hear is my own voice, soft, fading away.

****

I wake to darkness. I try to move, but my limbs feel like they’re bound by invisible chains, every inch of me weighted, every muscle aching. My skin is wet—sticky with sweat or something worse—and my mind stumbles, dizzy from the sudden absence of everything I knew.

I hear screams echoing from a distance, and I soon realize the screams are mine.

They break free from my throat before I can stop them. I cry out for Nonna, my voice cracking on her name. My fingers scrape the cold ground, my hands splayed out before me, tapping against the hard floor, searching, frantic.

“Nonna!” I gasp, pushing myself onto all fours, feeling nothing but the horror pressing in around me and my rosary still on my wrist.

I crawl, moving slowly. My hands are trembling, reaching for anything, anything to help me make sense of the darkness. My breath hitches when I touch something cold, something metal. The edges are sharp—like iron.

I pull myself up, my knees shaking beneath me, and as I rise, I hear a soft sound. The creak of a bed. I blink, my hands still gripping the metal frame, trying to steady myself. This is a bed.

I sob into the darkness. I raise my eyes, wiping at the tears, but all I see is more black. More nothing. I start to scream again.

And then, the door opens and light spills in.

The bulb above buzzes to life, the sudden light flooding the room in harsh waves.

The two men step in, those two from the bathroom stall.

The bigger one stands first, his silhouette massive, cutting through the light like a dark pillar. The other follows, smaller.

I drop to my knees before them as they approach, my hands clasped in front of my chest, trembling as I sob.

“Please... please, take me back to Nonna. She’s waiting at the airport. She’ll be so worried... She gets headaches when she’s worried... Please...”

The huge man lets out a small chuckle. He steps closer, his shadow swallowing the light.

“You won’t be seeing Nonna for a while.”

“What?” I whisper, my voice breaking. “What do you mean? No, please—please, I need to go back. I have to go back to her—she needs me—she...”

The man lights a cigarette, the glow of the flame lighting up his features for a split second. His smile is cruel, his eyes never leaving me as he inhales, the smoke curling around his face.

“My name is Vieri Tavano,” he says. “And this is Bugatti.”

He gestures to the man behind him. The man who had held me down.