Page 103 of Lupo

Lupo pulls her into his arms, holding her tight while she sobs against his shoulder. His eyes are closed, his jaw clenched, and I can see him fighting to keep his composure.

"I have to, baby. I'm so sorry."

"But when you come back," she says between sobs, "when you come back, can we have a picnic? Under the big tree? And you can tell me stories?"

"Yes." His voice is rough. "When I come back, we'll have the best picnic ever. I promise."

"And you'll teach me to whistle?"

"I'll teach you to whistle."

"And we can pick olives together?"

"Yes. All of it. Everything you want." He pulls back to look at her, cupping her face in his hands. "Make a list and we’ll do all the things you want. But you have to be good for your mama while I'm gone. Can you do that? Can you be strong for your Mama?"

She nods, still crying. "I'll be so good. The best ever."

"I know you will." He kisses her forehead, then pulls her close again.

I watch them together and feel something cracking inside my chest. This man—this dangerous, violent man—is holding my daughter like she's made of glass. And she trusts him completely.

What have I done?

I've let her love him. Let her believe he's her father. Let her build her whole world around someone who might never come back.

And I've done the same thing to myself.

After a few minutes, Elena's sobs quiet to sniffles. Lupo sets her back in her chair gently.

"Finish your breakfast, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?"

She nods but doesn't pick up her fork. Just stares at her plate, tears still running down her cheeks.

Lupo stands and looks at me. "I need to make the call."

"Okay."

We step outside together, into the morning sun. The yard looks the same as always—the barn, the chicken coop, the olive trees. Nothing has changed, but yet everything has changed.

"I'm calling Ciro now," he says. "He said he was staying nearby. It probably won't take long for them to get here."

"How long?"

"An hour. Maybe less." He runs his hand through his hair. "I should pack. Get ready."

"You don't have anything to pack." The words come out flat. "You came here with nothing. You'll leave with nothing."

"Isabella—"

"I'll get you some food. For the drive." I turn toward the house. "That's all I can do."

"Isabella, please—"

I stop but don't turn around. "Make your call, Lupo. I need to go comfort my daughter."

I walk back inside, leaving him standing in the yard.

Elena is still sitting at the table, pushing her eggs around her plate. When she sees me, her face crumples again.