Page 48 of The Crimson Lily

“How about 3 p.m.? Same place you had your car parked yesterday.”

Fuck you, William. Fuck you.

“In broad daylight?” I check.

“Always more exciting,” he replies. I can hear his grin.

“Deal. And don’t fuck with me.”

I hang up the phone. I’m not going to give him a chance to mock me, to bully me.

I turn to Chiara and Giovanni, who are both frowning at me. “Three p.m.,” I say. “It’s going to be me for Maksim.”

“What?” Giovanni blurts. “What are you talking about?”

“William wanted me to show up at the meeting, not Maksim!” I raise my voice. “I’m going to give myself up.”

“You can’t do that!” Giovanni argues. “He will kill you, and the mission will fail.”

“You have a list of who knows how many Syndicate members,” I recall. “Use it. Put pressure on them with it. Make them bleed! Maksim will help you. The Bratva will help you!”

“But you will die!” Giovanni rebukes

“I’m nothing but a liability!” I scream. The words of a younger William. “I used to be Syndicate. I betrayed them. They wanted me dead eight months ago; they’ll still want me dead tomorrow! This is how we end this. And Maksim will still be alive.”

Giovanni takes a few steps toward me. He comes close enough for me to see the distress in his eyes. He raises his voice. “Who is this guy to you that you’d let yourself be killed for him ?”

“I’m doing this for the mission,” I debate.

“You’re insane, that’s what you are!”

I slap him. No one calls me insane .

“I love him!” My voice eventually fails me, and the tears begin to leach through the walls I’ve raised.

I shove Giovanni to the side, pass Chiara without looking at her, and head into the street. I need to cry my eyes out because anxiety has begun to take over. I can’t breathe. Panic grips my neck with a force equal to my fear. I’m going to die. I’m well aware of that.

Giovanni follows me outside, Chiara ambling behind him like a lost puppy.

It takes me about an hour to finally get him to admit that my plan is the right one.

That the list they have in their hands is far more valuable than my life.

That we finally have something to hold against the Syndicate.

Tangible proof. Hell, they can even get the police involved at this point.

I collapse on the nearest bench, my elbows on my knees and my face plunged in my palms. I empty my tears in silence.

Passersby peek at us, the three weird strangers who either walk in circles, rest against the nearest wall, or cry on a lonely bench.

I wonder what they’re thinking. What kind of story they make up about us.

Probably a love affair gone wrong. Probably a tragedy. Nothing near what is actually going on.

The sun has fully risen. The rays form a crown over the tall salmon- and cream-colored buildings that surround us. Giovanni ran off to get some coffee or food or both. I’m sure I need that; I still feel sick to my core.

Chiara sits beside me. She fiddles with the strap of her purse, nervously folding it left or right every five seconds.

I really can’t stop hearing those gunshots; I have to do something. “How did you become Syndicate?” I ask to distract her and myself.

Chiara, startled, clenches her little bag with both hands.

“My brother and I were members of the Cosa Nostra, the Sicilian mafia. One day, the Syndicate recruited him, and he dragged me into it.” She pauses as if to collect a long-lost memory.

“We were young and impressionable, and they promised we could see the world.”

“Where is your brother now?” I wonder.

She purses her lips as if it’s hard for her to speak. “He died because he opened his mouth.”

“Is that why you went rogue?”

“Rogue?” She doesn’t know what the word means.

“Why you betrayed them,” I clarify.

She gives me short and distant nods, confirming my hypothesis. I let the silence invade us again.

My phone buzzes about two minutes later. I check the latest notification: a message from Béatrice.

Morning, Lili! How’s Rome?

I close my eyes and let a tear roll freely. Béatrice is probably the only person I need to say goodbye to. If I’m going to die today, I want to tell her how much she means to me.

I dial her phone number—screw international call costs!

“Lili!” Béatrice exclaims after one beep.

I exhale and swallow my tears. “Hey…”

“Are you okay?” Of course she immediately notices something’s wrong.

“Yeah, I’m just…?waking up.” I fake a yawn.

She’ll probably take that as a: I’ll tell you when I’m ready to .

“How are you doing, Bea?” I ask in a smiling tone. “What’s new?”

I could say anything on the list of last words you should say to your best friend, but in reality, I just want to hear her voice. I rejoice at simply hearing her tell me about how her days have been since the last time we spoke.

“I’m dating someone,” she announces.

“That’s great!” I cheer. “What’s his name?”

“Lucas,” she says. “He’s American, and he’s a painter!”

I’m so happy for her. I say nothing else, hoping she’ll keep on talking while I keep on crying silently.

“So! Tell me, how’s Rome?”

“It’s…?beautiful,” I murmur. “Maksim…” I can’t speak anymore. Saying his name is simply too difficult.

“Lili, what happened? Did he do something?”

I shake my head, holding the phone, pressing it against my ear. “No, no, he’s…?perfect. He’s just…?sleeping right now. I don’t want to wake him up.”

Lie. She knows that, but she doesn’t pursue the myth-debunking any further.

“Did you see the Pantheon?” she diverts. “If I remember correctly, that was your favorite!”

“Yes, and I might even go back there today!” I lie.

“Send me a picture!” Béatrice pushes with a lively voice. “And don’t forget to eat gelato for me.”

“I won’t.”

She pauses. I hear some movement around her. “All right, I need to get going,” she informs. “Last day of the week before the weekend !” She sings the word weekend .

I squeeze the phone a little harder like I don’t want to let it go. “Have a good day, Béatrice.”

If she had suspected something was wrong, now she knows for sure, but she doesn’t act on it. “You too, Lili.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

She hangs up, and I stay there, silent, staring at the paved road.

I only notice Giovanni has returned once he hands me a disposable cup of Italian coffee.

He smiles when I accept it along with the croissant he has in his other hand.

I eat without hunger, my eyes back on the road, empty of all thought. Numb. Blank. Disconnected.

I can’t even pee properly. The loud noise of the toilet’s flush whirs between my ears, almost deafening me.

I wash my hands and take a look in the small, dirty mirror hanging in the bathroom in the café down the road.

Oh, look at that, I look like shit. I take my silver necklace between my fingers, pinching it, refusing to let it go.

It’s almost 2 p.m., and Giovanni and Chiara wait for me outside.

I stare at myself like I’m staring at a convict about to head for the chair, but it’s not the idea of death that’s on my mind.

It is that of resolve. With my act, Maksim will be saved, and he can help take the Syndicate down better than I ever could.

It doesn’t feel heroic; it feels necessary.

I am about to leave the bathroom when a clacking sound behind my steps catches my attention.

On the damp and probably moldy floor, I spot the little triangle that was clipped to my sweater.

My GPS tracker. It probably slipped when I put my faux fur coat back on.

At that exact moment, the seed of an idea germinates in my brain.

If there is a chance that William won’t kill me on the spot, where will he take me?

What if he takes me to the Syndicate’s lair everyone’s been talking about?

What if that tracker is a way for Maksim and the rest to find that prized location? To find me?

No, I can’t. William will most certainly have me searched if he takes me there. That tracker won’t make it out alive, and it’s too big to swallow. If my time has come, I’d rather not choke on my own death. Yet maybe there is a way. One chance, that’s all I have. I have to take that chance.

I pick up the triangle, notice how small it is, and brainstorm how I can best smuggle it.

Jeans pocket? Too risky.

Bra? What if they take all my clothes?

I go with the more…?discreet idea. Like a drug mule, I unbutton my black jeans and make a choice, right here, to settle with my lady’s pocket.

I wash the tracker five times with that cheap-ass soap before slipping it in like a tampon.

It’s foolish, ridiculous, insane, and maybe a little weird.

It’s not comfortable at all, but it fits.

Please don’t let that stupid device run out of battery now. Please don’t let this be for nothing.

I head back out of the cafe’s bathroom with a walk of shame and into the street to rejoin Giovanni and Chiara, who’ve been waiting for me all this time. I feel dirty, and walking doesn’t make that annoying sensation between my legs go away. Oh well, tough luck! It’s time to make a trade.

A long blue limousine with a silent engine rolls to the other side of the road.

An electric car, I presume. It parks opposite of ours.

Two white men step out. They wear black clothes and carry weapons bigger than me.

They go stand at the front of the car, facing us.

From the passenger seat, a figure with a flamboyant crown comes out and joins the two armed men.

I’m not afraid. These weapons look like they’re for show, to intimidate us. I’m not going to let that happen. I follow Giovanni, who steps out of the car in turn.

Chiara chooses to stay inside.

“We’ll find you, bella ,” Giovanni whispers to me before we face the three men.

There’s a road separating us, but I instantly lock eyes with William de Loit. His long beige trench coat almost reaches his knees. He’s tall, but not as tall as his two bodyguards. He smiles at me. A vile sneer I really want to rip off his face.

“You look like shit!” he comments.

I probably smell like shit too, but hey, I’ve been up for more than twenty-four hours. I lost the man I love, punched an Italian in the face, cried, barfed, and slipped a GPS tracker into my vagina—how’s your nightslashday going?

A third man steps out of William’s car, dragging a wounded Maksim, who can barely crawl, behind him. I can’t see the scene well from here, but I notice Maksim is covered in blood and dirt. My heart breaks but solidifies again. Maksim lives. He is there, a few steps away from me.

My legs start to move independently of my mind, but two of William’s men aim their weapons at me.

“Leave your coat and purse behind,” William orders.

I don’t even argue. I stare him down, take off my coat in a rush, and cast it on the ground.

“I don’t have a purse,” I bark.

“What about your phone?” William questions.

I point at my dead jacket. My phone is there.

William signs something to the third man, and the latter drags Maksim closer to me. He halts in the middle of the road, dumps Maksim’s body on the gravel, and traces his steps back.

I instantly rush to my Maksim. Fuck those guns pointed at me. He’s trying to get up while I collapse beside him, on my knees, taking his bloody face in my hands.

He has cuts around his lips, blood on his nose, and his eyes are dark-purple and swollen. There’s blood all over his jacket, all over his torn shirt.

“What have they done to you?” I murmur in muffled cries. Cries of relief.

I’m so glad to have him back. I kiss him, tasting blood and dirt but not caring at all because Maksim is alive.

He looks at me. I can see the electric-blue of his irises between his bruises. “What did you do, Liliana?” he grunts in pain or anger. “What deal did you make?”

I kiss him again, letting him lean on me. “Don’t worry about me, Maksim. I’ll be fine.”

His hands clench my thighs. “What did you do?”

“I promise I’ll be fine.”

I stand up. I’m about to walk to the blue car when he catches my wrist. He does his best to rise to his feet and step in my way. “Li…?Liliana.”

“Let her through,” William commands in his cringeworthy tone. “Or we’ll shoot you both.”

I lay my hand on Maksim’s arm and plunge my gaze into his. He trembles, but his glare is more determined than I’ve ever seen.

“I’m coming for you, Liliana,” he warns.

What last words do you say to the man you love?

“I made sure it was always on,” I disclose with a goodbye smile. I know he knows what I mean. He’ll figure it out. Maksim is smart.

I walk to William, coming within arm’s length of that repulsive man. His presence feels familiar. I haven’t come this close to him since the time he tried to kill me.

“Your hair is still the same,” he remarks.

“So is yours.” I flick my chin at his red mane.

William motions for the third man’s attention and clicks his fingers.

He heads back for the car. I know something’s going to happen to me.

Within seconds, the man has wrapped an arm around me and holds a piece of alcohol-scented cloth to my nose.

My mouth is still open, and I taste something sweet, as if the cloth is made of caramel shards.

I can hear Giovanni’s voice behind me loudly uttering something, but I can’t make out what it is.

The world stops spinning. Time stops ticking.

My consciousness slowly slips away. As I close my eyes, I catch a last flash of William’s grin, and everything goes black.