Page 185 of Bitter Poetry

Nothing—I open the door and peer outside.

An empty corridor stretches out in two directions. In the distance on the left, I can see the elevator bank.

Deep breath. One foot then the other until I’m over the threshold, the door held open in my hand.

Once I let it go, there’s no going back.

I let it click shut.

I’m outside.

The sound of a door opening further down the corridor galvanizes me into action, and I walk briskly toward the elevator bank.

It arrives while the couple are still noisily exiting their apartment. It’s empty, but it stops at three different floors on the way down and is full by the time we reach the lobby.

I let myself be swept up with the people as they move through the lobby toward the soaring glass entry doors. When I arrived with Christian, I came in through the parking garage, and none of this is familiar.

I spot the soldier halfway between the elevator bank and the exit. Maybe I’m wrong and he’s a regular security guard. Only the way he stands is purposeful, his eyes scanning the lobby before scoping a group of arriving guests beyond the open door. After a lifetime of being around men of his kind, I’m convinced he is no ordinary security guard.

I stumble and bump into a young man. “Sorry,” I mumble, fighting down the urge to break into a run and flee. Running would be stupid. Even suddenly veering off might draw the soldier’s attention, so I continue walking, trying to keep to the middle of the ‘pack’.

As I draw closer, I realize he’s more interested in the few people entering than in those leaving.

I keep my eyes down, reminding myself that my appearance is nothing remarkable or noteworthy.

My pep talk doesn’t help. My heart is beating out of my chest. I can barely breathe as I draw level with him, waiting for him to shout for me to stop.

He doesn’t. I swept through the doorway and onto the sidewalk, where the concierge and two assistants were welcoming a family and collecting their baggage.

The rush of people momentarily stuns me.

Train station… Only, which way is that? It wasn’t like I could Google it at the risk of Dante reviewing my search history. Maybe with hindsight, it wouldn’t matter now.

More people seem to be heading to the right than left, and I let myself move with the steady stream. The route takes me past the entrance to the club. I keep my eyes fixed ahead, but I’m aware that he spends a lot of time there, even out of hours, and he could be there right now.

Keep it together, Carmela.

This is all new to me: being alone, traveling without a bodyguard or soldier watching me, whether I was aware of them or not.

Not once in my entire life have I been outside on my own.

I’ve never caught a train or a bus.

Yet I am surrounded by people doing exactly that. Unexpectedly, it’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

The people trail takes me to the central marina, where the restaurants and coffee shops are already busy. Here I find a tourist map. The station is a block away.

I enter the station, buy a ticket, and wait with the other commuters on the track. The train that arrives is packed, so I get on and find a place to stand. The motion is oddly soothing, and I stare out the window, lost in my thoughts.

I remind myself that this is the only choice, the right choice.

I can do this.

End this nightmare once and for all.

DANTE

Something was off about her—something beyond what happened between us, and her revelation—a restless disquiet. It’s only now I’m away from her, in Leon’s office listening absently as he talks to Mateo on the phone, that the feeling returns with a vengeance.