Page 112 of Lupo

My eyes burn with tears. "That's it?"

"Yes." Ciro opens the door, checking to make sure Elena is still playing and not paying attention. "Remember—phone is for emergencies only. Money needs to last. Keep your routine the same. And if anything feels wrong—if anyone comes asking questions, if you see anything suspicious—you call immediately."

"I will."

He nods once, then walks out to his truck. I watch from the barn doorway as he drives away, the old pickup kicking up dust.

When he's gone, I look down at the phone in one hand and the envelope in the other. I hide the money in the barn, wrapped in old cloth and tucked behind the same tools where Lupo hid the gun. I tuck the phone in my pocket, feeling its weight.

Emergency use only.

I understand the logic. Understand that contact is dangerous, that every call is a risk, that the silence is what keeps us safe. But understanding doesn't make it easier.

I walk back out to the yard where Elena is still playing. She looks up when she sees me, her face brightening.

"Mama! Was that man looking for work?"

"Yes, baby. But we don't have any work for him right now."

"Oh." She goes back to her game, moving her rabbit through an imaginary forest. "When Daddy comes home, maybe he can hire him. Daddy's good at fixing things."

"Maybe, sweetheart."

"Mama?" She looks up at me, her expression suddenly serious. "Daddy is coming home, right? He promised."

"Yes, baby. He promised."

"When?"

"Soon."

"But how soon? Like tomorrow soon? Or next week soon?"

"A few weeks, probably."

Her face falls. "That's so long."

"I know. But it'll go fast. You'll see. We have lots of things to do around here before he comes back."

She nods, but she doesn't look convinced. "I miss him."

"I miss him too."

She climbs into my lap, still clutching her rabbit, and I hold her close. My three-and-a-half-year-old daughter who's already learning about loss. About people leaving. About promises that might not be kept.

I should never have let her get attached. Should never have let her call him Daddy. Should have protected her heart better.

Should have protected my own heart better.

But I didn't. And now we're both sitting here missing a man who might not come back. A man who's in Naples right now, surrounded by violence and danger.

I feel the phone in my pocket, a small hard weight against my hip. What counts as an emergency? Elena getting sick? Someone coming to the farm asking questions? Me not being able to handle the loneliness and fear?

No. That last one doesn't count. I have to be stronger than that.

I have to survive these two weeks without falling apart. Have to keep Elena happy and fed and unaware of how terrified I am. Have to keep our routine the same, spend the money carefully, not draw attention.

Have to wait.