Stolen: Dante’s Vow by Natasha Knight
Mara
Iwatch the sun rise out of the airplane window. It’s so pretty up here. I wish I could stay up in the air forever. I wish I could just keep flying, chasing the sunrise for the rest of my life up here in the air where no one can touch me. No one can hurt me. Betray me.
Below the sea sparkles crystal blue. We’re descending. I see the mainland. We’re too far to see the island but I know it’s there. I know that’s where he’s taking me. My heart beats a little faster, my hands growing clammy.
The captain comes over the intercom telling us we’ll be landing in fifteen minutes. To make sure our seatbelts are buckled. I doubt not having a seatbelt buckled would make much difference if the plane took a nose-dive into the water, but I do it anyway.
Fifteen minutes.
I close my eyes, my hand automatically coming to the wrist where the bracelet used to be. The gift Samuel had given me. He’d told me he’d had it since he was little. Said his mother had given it to him when he was just a child. He gave it to me after a particularly bad night, so I’d know I wasn’t alone. I remember how I’d felt. How his words had made me cry, made me sadder than I already was.
But I know now his words were lies. His friendship just another betrayal. He’d been working for Felix all along. Felix had been tracking me that last year. Why? And when Petrov found out, he’d made it seem like it was my fault they’d sawn off Samuel’s hand. It was my fault that he’d been killed. But that, too, was another manipulation. Another game. Another way to fuck with me.
It should be easier thinking about Samuel’s death now. Knowing he wasn’t my friend at all. But it isn’t. It somehow hurts more.
A tear slips down my cheek, but I make sure I’m facing out the window, so no one notices. I wipe it away quickly. Steel myself as I finally see the small dot that is the island. I take a deep breath in and grip the arms of the seat, closing my eyes for the rest of the flight. I’m going to need to get better at this. At shutting myself off.
Why did he bring me here? Back to this place where it all began. Why would he do that to me?
A few minutes later, the plane touches down, the landing thankfully soft. I open my eyes to meet Dante’s ever watchful gaze. He’s broken too. It’s so obvious.
The captain’s voice comes over the intercom as the plane slows to a stop. Matthaeus gets to his feet and stretches.
I shift my attention to undoing my belt. Dante stands, reaches for our bags and slings one over his shoulder. The other he holds in one hand and gestures for me to go ahead of him.
The attendant unlocks the door and it’s opened, the stairs lowered onto the tarmac. The sun is bright in the clear blue sky, the air crisp and in that moment before my brain can step in and remind me of my reality, in that one small stitch in time, I feel something I haven’t felt in a very, very long time. I feel it deep inside my belly.
Excitement.
A feeling of wanting to be out there. Wanting to take the steps that will lead me out under that sky, into that sunshine. Wanting to breathe in the air and exhale and just be.
It’s the lightness of freedom.
Of home.
But my mind is quick to correct. And I clear my throat, take a step. I can see in my periphery that Dante saw it, though. Whatever that was must have played out on my face. Or he’s just so in tune with me. But that’s wishful thinking. I remember his rejection earlier. The hard no when I’d kissed him.
Heat flushes my face at the memory. How stupid I am.
I hurry after Matthaeus who exits first and watch him shake hands with the man standing beside the SUV that just came to a stop near the plane. They hug briefly before Matthaeus moves and the man turns his attention to the top of the stairs where I’m standing.
My breath catches in my throat, the gasp audible.
I hesitate, turn to find Dante at my back. He wraps his hand around the back of my neck, and I feel his warmth, his strength. His thumb rubs the hollow at my nape. He leans in close.
“It’s okay. You know him.”
I do.
I turn to the man who is smiling. He’s trying to hide the worry in his deep blue eyes that the furrow between his brows gives away.
It’s Cristiano. Dante’s older brother.
“It’s okay, Mara,” Dante whispers again.
I nod, take a deep breath, and fumble for the handrail. My hand is shaking. My legs too. But I take step after step, focusing on my feet, not on the man waiting.
Dante stays close behind ready to catch me if my legs give out. When I step onto the tarmac, Cristiano walks toward me but is careful to keep distance. They’re all so careful with me. Like they’re scared to spook me. Don’t they know I can’t be any more spooked?
I look up at him. See the warmth in his gaze. See the gray at his temples. The lines around his eyes. The boy is gone. Again. Just like Dante. Cristiano is a man. A stranger to me.
“Mara.” He glances over my shoulder to Dante and when I follow his gaze, I see Dante give a small shake of his head. Cristiano steps back giving me more space, room to breathe. “Welcome home.”
He’s as tall as Dante. Built the same. He doesn’t have the damage to his face that Dante has though. When the brothers hug and I see them together, I remember something. Laughter. Warmth. A happy family.
They both turn to look at me again, Cristiano cautiously smiling, Dante watching. Always watching. He doesn’t even try to hide the intensity of his gaze or the darkness of his thoughts.
“Your grandmother, Scarlett, and even Noah are anxious to see you, Mara,” Cristiano says. I think he’s trying to make me feel relaxed. I know he is. But all it does is increase my anxiety.
I look up to Dante, my throat tight. Why did he bring me here? Here of all places.
Someone closes the trunk, making me jump. Dante is beside me again, standing close enough for our arms to touch. Cristiano looks like he has something to say but doesn’t. Instead, he climbs into the passenger seat of one of the three SUVs with their darkly tinted windows.
Dante does that thing again, his hand on the back of my neck, and I turn to him.
“Are you okay?”
Why did you bring me here?
I want to ask it, but I don’t. Instead, I nod and climb into the back seat of the SUV. I scoot to the other side as Dante gets in beside me. A few moments later, we’re moving.
The coast is beautiful. Even in winter, even though it’s cold, there’s something almost magical about this turquoise sea. All I can do is stare out the window at it as we drive. When our procession comes to a stop at a port, the men step out. Dante and Cristiano talk briefly in Italian before Dante turns to me, holds out his hand.
“We’ll take the boat from here. You and me together. Okay?”
I nod but I’m starting to feel sick. It will be good to have a break before we get to the house. Good to get myself ready. This should feel good, right? I think about this as I squint against the sun, making my way across the lot to the boats bobbing in the water. But the truth is, I can’t remember the last time I dreamt of being rescued. Of coming home.
Home.
No.
The island isn’t home. Not really. I lived with my grandmother although I guess we spent much of our time on the island. I don’t remember my mother and never knew my father. Is he out there somewhere? Does he even know I exist? Does he care? No because if he did, he’d have come for me. I don’t have any siblings that I’m aware of. My mother died before I could even form memories of her. I am alone.
As that thought settles over me my gaze falls on Dante and something inside my chest aches.
No, I won’t fool myself.
I. Am. Alone.
I make myself repeat it.
We reach the boats. Dante climbs onto one, then reaches a hand to me. Cristiano is nearby, Matthaeus beside him.
“I can’t swim,” I say when I look down at the boat bobbing in the water.
“Well, we’re hopefully not swimming today,” Dante says with a smile. “But just in case, I’m a strong enough swimmer for the both of us, okay?”
I don’t answer.
“Give me your hand,” he says, his smile gone when I don’t respond. “I won’t let you fall, Mara. I’ll never let you fall.”
I hear his words. Think of all they can mean. Think how stupid it would be for me to trust them no matter how much I want to. How desperate I am to.
But then Samuel comes to mind. His deception. My stupidity. It helps. And when I place my hand into Dante’s, I don’t let myself think about how it feels when he holds it, how he feels when I’m close to him. I step onto the boat and sit down where he directs me inside the little cabin. He starts the engine and a few moments later, we’re moving, the sound deafening, our speed exhilarating.
It’s cold but I don’t care. I get up, make my way outside. Salt air blows my hair, droplets of water hitting my face.
“Go back inside. It’s too cold.”
I shake my head, sit down at the front, turn my face into the wind. It feels wonderful. God. I feel alive.
He makes a sound and I glance at him to find him smiling. And when he shifts his attention to steering, I watch him. I watch his dark hair blow in the wind, watch how he stands so strong and straight, unyielding to the cold. Stronger than any man I’ve ever known.
And there’s that feeling again. Home.
But I’d better be careful with that. Careful to guard my heart.
As the island comes into view and he slows the boat, any exhilaration dissipates, replaced by an anxiety so deep I feel like I’m going to be sick. Because there it is. The hulking house on the island. The safe haven that turned into something so opposite, so gruesome.
The place I watched my best friend murdered.
The place I saw them all dying.
Dead.
The place my nightmare began.