Breathless ✓

Thirty - Seven ✔

I tilt my head, a sense of unease settling in my stomach. "What is it?"

He hesitates, his brows furrowed. "We got more pictures in the mail," he admits, a shadow passing over his eyes.

My heart skips a beat, a chill running down my spine. "More pictures?" I echo, my mind immediately flashing back to the previous incidents where anonymous threats invaded the privacy of my life.

Christian nods, his jaw tense. "Just like before, Victoria. Someone is watching us, threatening you."

Dread takes hold, and I feel a knot tightening in my chest. "How is this possible?" I whisper, the room suddenly feeling colder.

"We don't know," Christian confesses.

Dread takes hold, and I feel a knot tightening in my chest.

Christian nods, his jaw tense. "I didn't want to tell you like."

My eyes search his for reassurance, but uncertainty lingers. "Christian, I can't just leave Karla alone. She needs us."

He takes my hands in his, his touch a grounding force. "Victoria, your safety is my priority. We'll figure this out, but we need to get you somewhere secure first."

I bite my lip, torn between the urgency of the situation and the responsibility I feel towards Karla. "What about Karla? She's been through so much, and leaving her now..."

His thumb brushes soothingly over my knuckles. "We'll get the police involved, and we won't be far. I promise. But I can't risk your safety, not after what happened before."

The weight of his words sinks in, and I nod reluctantly, understanding the gravity of the threat. "Okay, but let's make sure Karla is safe too. We can't just leave her vulnerable."

Christian nods in agreement. "That is where my dad comes in. He'll take care of mom and I'll take care of you."

I furrow my brow, a knot of confusion tightening in my stomach. "Is this place not protected enough?" I ask, a hint of frustration edging my voice. "I don't understand."

Christian meets my gaze, his expression carrying a weight of concern. "I think it's best if we leave to be double sure."

A sense of unease settles within me. "I'm not sure I have a good feeling about this."

"We'll be going to Frascati. It's only like 40 minutes away," he reassures me, but that bad feeling refuses to dissipate.

"I'm not having a good feeling about this," I admit, playing nervously with my fingers.

Christian sighs, weariness etched across his features. "I have a bad feeling about everything. But we have to do something."

"Will it keep you at ease if we are away from here?" I inquire, searching his eyes for a glimmer of certainty.

"Yes," he replies with a heavy exhale.

"Okay, then we'll go," I reluctantly agree, though a lingering skepticism colors my tone.

He smiles at me, but my raised eyebrow conveys my lingering doubts. "But I have one condition."

His frown deepens. "What is it?"

"You are not leaving me there alone. You'll take me everywhere you go, or you have to stay back with me," I assert, my voice carrying a note of insistence.

"Okay," he shrugs, surprising me with the ease of his acceptance.

"Okay?" I question, still half-expecting resistance.

"Yes. That's fair. Here you have mom and Amara. There, it's just going to be us," he explains, the weight of responsibility evident in his gaze.

...

The decision to retreat to the safe house, a haven fortified against the looming threat, weighed heavily on my heart, a choice born of necessity rather than desire.

I found Amara in the garden, her fingers gently coaxing life from the soil as she tended to the vibrant array of blossoms that adorned the landscape. The fragrant symphony of flowers lingered in the air, a poignant backdrop to the conversation that awaited.

"Amara," I called softly, my voice threading through the rustle of leaves. She turned, her eyes reflecting a kaleidoscope of emotions—warmth, concern, and a hint of understanding.

"Victoria," she smiled, though the concern lingered in the corners of her eyes. "What brings you here?"

I drew in a steadying breath, the weight of impending separation pressing against my chest. "There's something I need to tell you, Amara."

Her expression shifted, attuned to the gravity of my words. We found a secluded bench beneath the overarching branches, a sanctuary where the murmur of leaves offered a semblance of privacy.

"We have decided to go to the safe house," I confessed, the words hanging in the air like delicate threads. "It's not safe for me here."

Amara's gaze held mine, a silent acknowledgment of the complex dance with danger that had become an unwelcome companion. "Victoria, we knew this day might come. But that doesn't make it any easier."

I nodded, gratitude swelling within me for Amara's unwavering support. "I wanted to spend some time with you before I go. You've been like a sister to me since I met you."

She reached for my hand, fingers intertwining in a gesture that spoke of the bond we had forged amidst the unpredictable currents of fate. "You're family, Victoria. No distance can change that."

We sat in companionable silence, the echoes of shared laughter and whispered confidences lingering in the spaces between us. The fragility of our circumstances hung palpably in the air, an unspoken reminder that safety and solace were elusive commodities.

"Promise me you'll be careful," Amara implored, her gaze seeking reassurance in the face of uncertainty.

"I promise," I replied, the weight of the vow settling on my shoulders. "And I'll be back. We'll see this through together."

As the night unfurled its obsidian wings, I bid Amara farewell, each step towards the looming shadows of the safe house a reluctant testament to the sacrifices demanded by the tempest that had infiltrated our lives.

...