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“You look like hell.”
“Thanks,” I reply bitterly, taking a sip. “Been trying out a new skincare routine.”
“Go back to the old one.” He smirks, looking back down at his phone. “Still pining over that boy?”
“Luigi, I’m not a fourteen-year-old girl in a YA novel, and he’s not a boy.” I sigh.
“So you are pining, then?”
Well, he’s got me there.I can’t stop thinking about Enzo, and it’s even harder to push him out of my mind when he calls me twenty times a day—not that I ever pick up.
“Any fun new surprises from The8?” I ask, changing the subject. Luigi puts his phone down, rubbing his temples.
“They’re creative, I’ll give them that,” he finally says. “Creative and so very frustrating.”
“What happened now?”
“Come on,” he says, pulling me up from the table. “You need to see it to believe it.”
We head through the house to the front door, which we rarely use. I’m fully expecting it to be spray-painted again, high-school-prank style.
At first, I don’t see. The front lawn is covered in a thick layer of pristine, glistening snow, tall pines line the fence, the driveway is full of blood—wait, what?
“What the hell …”
I hop down from the porch and make my way to the stone driveway in front of the garage. Red liquid covers the area inlarge splatters, but when I spot the clothes, my heart fills with dread.
My black wool jacket, leather pants, sweater, and boots are laid out on the driveway in the shape of a body, covered in red liquid.
The outfit I wore the night I ended up in Enzo’s bed.
I stare, open-mouthed and in shock, at the gruesome scene. The message is clear—these people are out to kill me.
“And you didn’t tell me about this?”
“I mean, how do you explain this?” Luigi gestures to the mess. “I’m still trying to wrap my brain around it myself. Imagine the shock I had driving up here this morning. And there was no trace of someone breaking in."
“This is fucked up.”
“I think it’s time we fill your father in, Valentina,” he pleads, eyeing me. “I don’t like where this is heading.”
“No!” I whirl around, pointing my finger at his chest. “You said we were going to lay low and?—”
“And see how it goes, yes, but it’s not going well, is it?”
“I need to talk to Enzo,” I say absent-mindedly, heading back to the house. This is far more serious than I thought.
“Valentina, we talked about this,” Luigi warns, tailing me. I stop in my tracks as my dream from this morning pops into my head again—not the sexy part, the motivational part.
Learn to speak for yourself.
Fine, Enzo, I will.
“Luigi, enough of this nonsense.” I spin around and stare him down. “I’m a full-grown adult capable of making my own decisions. Nothing you or my father say or do will convince me this is the wrong move. Enzo’s in this mess as well. They’re targeting him, too. We’ve tried to find out who’s behind this but have come up empty."
Luigi watches me quietly, deeply considering my words. Unlike my father, at least Uncle Luigi has some sense of logic and reason.
“The best thing we can do right now is work with him,” I continue, desperate to be heard. “My father isn’t going to solve this by locking me away in a beach house like I’m Malibu Barbie.”