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CHAPTER TWELVE MY SOUL

When I got home from school the following afternoon and made my way to the library, there was a piece of paper with my name on it waiting for me on the coffee table. It was sitting on top of a book of poems I hadn’t seen before. I recognized the handwriting on the note as Luca’s.

So Nic really had told him about my assignment, and Luca had decided to help me. I tried not to wonder why, tried not to imagine him poring over this poetry book, thinking about me. It would only drive me insane.

I unfolded the piece of paper, unbearably curious to find out what poem Luca would think relevant to me, and whether I would consider it an insult or a compliment.

‘Invictus’ by William Ernest Henley. The poem wasn’t familiar to me, but then again, few were. Luca had handwritten the words in small black script. It felt… personal. I shook the thought away and read the first line aloud.

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

By the time I reached the final verse, my arms were covered in goosebumps.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.

I read the poem three times, Evelina Falcone’s oil painting hanging over me, her gaze on the back of my neck. Another one of my father’s victims, another blot on his soul.

In my hands, the words seemed to grow bigger and bigger.

I understood.

I understood then why Luca had chosen this poem the day after Valentino had handed me my first official target.

Subtle, Luca. Real subtle.

That night, as I drifted off, those words swam around in my head, beside visions of dark eyes and gold teeth.

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.

Five days.

Five days and everything would change.