Page 131 of Double Trouble for the Mafia Prince

Once he's gone, I finish getting the girls ready and take them in my car.

The girls are in the back, arguing gently about who forgot the library book.

I smile when appropriate, but it does not reach my heart.

Halfway through the route, I notice a car.

Black.

Modest.

The kind that blends in until it is seen too many times.

It follows us for four turns.

Drops back.

Picks up again.

I glance once at the mirror, but choose not to alarm the girls or change the route.

I keep my voice calm when I tell them to double-check their bags and kiss the top of each head.

I smile when Arietta asks if she can buy chocolate milk with her lunch.

And I let them go.

Because fear is already eating too much of me, and I will not let it take them, too.

I want them to know what normal feels like. I want them to believe they belong in a world that does not move with shadows at their heels.

I wait outside until the school doors close behind them.

Only then do I exhale, the way one might after leaving a room filled with smoke.

The black car does not pull away.

It remains parked across the street, engine running, windows dark.

The driver inside does not move.

Neither do I.

I do not go home after I drop the girls off.

The black car stays parked across the street for nearly twenty minutes, engine humming quietly under the low thrum of morning traffic.

I remain where I am, halfway between the school’s front gate and the outer edge of the pickup zone, pretending to study something on my phone.

I watch the car through the reflection in the glass.

The driver never steps out.

I wait until the first bell rings.

Only then do I shift the car into gear and pull away, my hands steady on the wheel, though the skin between my shoulders refuses to loosen.

I circle the neighborhood twice.