Page 30 of The Seventh Circle (The Lost Cantos #1)

ANTONIO

Ireturned from Ostia with the taste of bile in my mouth.

Three days of Paolo's company had taught me new definitions of cruelty.

Not toward me—he'd been careful there, keeping me visible and unharmed—but I'd watched him extract a debt from a fisherman who'd fallen behind, leaving the man with three broken fingers and the understanding that next time would be worse.

"A reminder of consequences," Paolo had explained afterward, wiping blood from his knuckles with a handkerchief. "Something to consider, Romano."

The implied threat hung between us. My family. Enzo.

Now, walking through Trastevere's familiar streets toward home, every shadow seemed hostile. The neighborhood had changed—or perhaps I had. Eyes followed me, some fearful, others calculating. I'd become something dangerous by association, marked by my connection to the Benedettos.

"Tonio!" Enzo burst through our door before I'd even reached it, throwing himself against me. "You're back!"

I crushed him to my chest, breathing in the scent of soap and pencil lead that clung to him. "Miss me, piccolo?"

"Every day." He pulled back, eyes bright. "Did you bring me anything from the sea?"

I produced a small parcel from my pocket—a carved wooden boat I'd bought from an old man on the docks. "Made by a sailor who's seen all the way to America."

Enzo took it reverently. "Tell me everything."

"Let your brother come inside first," Mama called from the doorway, her smile tight with worry. "He looks half-starved."

The apartment smelled of garlic and basil, Mama's sauce simmering on the stove. Papa sat at the table, newspaper forgotten as I entered. The familiar crease between his brows deepened.

"Antonio."

"Papa."

For three days, I'd dreamed of this moment—returning to the safety of our small rooms, the uncomplicated love of my family. But now that I was here, everything felt fragile, as if made of spun glass that might shatter with a careless word.

Over dinner, I avoided their questions about Ostia, spinning tales for Enzo about fishing boats and seagulls while exchanging careful glances with my parents. They knew enough not to press. The wounds on my knuckles told their own story.

"I visited the scientific academy while you were away. I took the train by myself!" Enzo announced, changing the subject. "They have a special program for mathematics. The headmaster said I could apply for next term."

"In Milano?" I asked, heart quickening.

Enzo nodded enthusiastically. "I got the information you asked for. The tuition costs—"

"We'll discuss it later," Papa interrupted, with a meaningful look at me. "Your brother is tired."

After dinner, I helped Mama with the dishes while Enzo showed Papa his latest drawings. The familiar domestic rhythm should have been comforting, but every moment felt like sand slipping through my fingers.

"Will you tell me what's really happening?" Mama asked quietly, handing me a plate to dry.

I kept my eyes on the cloth in my hands. "It's better if you don't know."

"Better for whom?" She took the dried plate from me before I could place it on the shelf, forcing me to look at her. "That man, Paolo—he came here while you were gone. Just to look, he said. To ensure your family was well."

My blood turned to ice. "What did he say exactly?"

"Nothing that needed saying." Her eyes, so like mine, searched my face. "But I know a threat when I hear one, figlio mio."

I wanted to reassure her, to promise that everything would be fine, that I'd protect them all. The lies died in my throat.

"We need to leave Roma," I said instead. "Soon."

"Because of the Benedettos?" When I didn't answer, she sighed. "Or because of the Benedetto boy?"

My hands froze on the dish I was drying. "What do you mean?"

"Mothers see what others don't, Tonio." She touched my cheek gently. "The way you speak of him. The look in your eyes when his name is mentioned."

Shame and fear crashed through me like a wave. "Mama—"

"No." She pressed her fingers to my lips. "I won't ask you to name it. But I know love when I see it, whatever form it takes."

I couldn't speak, throat closing around words I'd never thought to say aloud to her.

"Is he worth dying for?" she asked simply.

"Yes," I whispered, the truth escaping before I could consider it.

She nodded once, as if confirming something she'd long suspected. "Then we will find a way through this. Together, as a family."

I clutched her hand, overcome with gratitude and terror in equal measure. "There's a celebration tomorrow night. After that..." I couldn't finish.

"After that, we do what we must." She squeezed my hand. "Now go see Father Giuseppe. He asked for you this afternoon—said it was important."

I looked toward the door, my mind already on the church. I had to know what Lorenzo had said. "I'll go now. Lock the door behind me. Don't open it for anyone but me."

"Be careful, Tonio," Papa said from his chair, his eyes dark with worry.

"Always," I promised, giving Enzo's hair one last ruffle before slipping out into the night. The walk to Santa Maria degli Angeli would take half an hour. Half an hour I would be away from them, but it was necessary.

Santa Maria degli Angeli stood quiet in the early evening, most parishioners gone home to their suppers. I found Father Giuseppe lighting candles in the side chapel, his movements unhurried but purposeful.

"Antonio." He didn't seem surprised to see me. "I've been expecting you."

"Mama said you asked for me."

He gestured toward the confessional. "Not for confession this time. We need privacy."

Inside the small wooden booth, with only the latticed screen between us, Father Giuseppe spoke in a low, urgent tone.

"Lorenzo came to me early this morning. He told me about Paolo's interference and the accelerated engagement."

"I know some of it," I said. "The celebration is tomorrow night."

"What you don't know is that Lorenzo believes Paolo plans something more than just an announcement." Father Giuseppe's voice tightened. "He suspects Paolo will ensure Lorenzo has no chance to refuse."

Cold dread settled in my stomach. "What has he heard?"

"Nothing specific. But Paolo has been meeting privately with Don Salvatore, and servants overheard mention of 'securing the bloodline' and 'removing distractions.'"

I closed my eyes, understanding the implications. Once Lorenzo was publicly committed to Sophia Vitelli, any connection to me would become an intolerable risk to both families' reputations. Paolo would have reason—and permission—to eliminate the problem.

"Lorenzo has secured a letter of introduction to a shipping manager in Genoa," Father Giuseppe continued. "I've been working all day with my contacts to arrange safe passage there for both of you."

My thoughts immediately went to my family. "What about my parents? My brother?"

"I've spoken with Sister Maria at the convent," he said, surprising me. "Initially, I thought we could only move two people on such short notice. But the sisters can take your family tonight—your parents and Enzo—and move them separately to Genoa where you'll reunite."

"Tonight?" My heart hammered against my ribs. "So soon?"

"Time is the one thing you don't have." Father Giuseppe's tone grew urgent. "Paolo has men watching your family's building. Lorenzo is being monitored at the compound. The celebration tomorrow will close the trap."

"If we're caught..." I began.

"Then none of you will be safe," he finished firmly. "This is your only chance, Antonio. Tonight. All of you."

I leaned my head against the wooden wall, mind racing. "How would it work?"

"Your family will leave first, under the sisters' protection. The convent has been moving people to safety for years—women escaping brutal husbands, children in danger. They know how to travel undetected."

"And Lorenzo?"

"I'll bring him here tonight. A carriage will take you both to Ostia where a fishing boat will carry you to a larger vessel bound for Genoa. In Genoa, Lorenzo's letter will secure you passage wherever you choose to go next."

It seemed impossible, yet Father Giuseppe spoke with such calm certainty that I found myself believing. "What do we bring?"

"Nothing but what you can carry in your pockets. Anything more will draw attention." He paused. "There's money waiting in Genoa. Enough to start a new life."

I thought of the small apartment that had been my entire world, of Enzo's drawings pinned to the walls, of Mama's kitchen tools passed down from her mother.

"My family will have to leave everything behind."

"Yes." His voice softened. "But they'll have their lives, and each other."

"When must I tell them?"

"Now. Immediately. The sisters will come for them at nine o'clock. You must meet me here at the church's rear entrance at ten." Another pause. "Antonio, you must be certain. Once this begins, there's no turning back."

The weight of the decision pressed on my chest. To leave Roma—the city of my birth, the only home I'd ever known. To flee into uncertainty with my family and the man I loved.

"Paolo will hunt us," I said.

"Yes. But the farther you go, the weaker his reach becomes." Father Giuseppe's voice carried a surprising steel. "The world is larger than the Benedettos believe it to be."

I took a deep breath, made my choice. "We'll be ready."

"Good. Go now, prepare your family." He made the sign of the cross, though I couldn't see it through the screen. "May God protect you all tonight."