𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃¹⁸

8

-Chapter Eight-
-Last Days-

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Four days passed smoothly without a sign of anyone searching for me or even noticing my absence. The time was mostly spent being interrogated by Leonardo. He bombarded me with numerous questions, and I did my best to provide answers, even if some of them were made up on the spot. I knew I had to say things that would solidify my chances of not being killed when he eventually took me to Italy.

While most of my responses were truthful, there were certain inquiries that I couldn't answer. Leonardo insisted I provide a response regardless, leaving me no choice but to make something up. For instance, when he asked about my great great great grandmother, I casually claimed she was Queen Elizabeth I. It was a desperate attempt to satisfy his curiosity and keep myself alive.

At present, it was around 10:00 pm, and we were in Leonardo's office. He had paperwork to finish before his departure to Italy, although I had no idea when that would be. Seated adjacent to him, I propped my elbows on the desk, my head resting on my hands, and observed him intently as he worked. He was completely engrossed in the documents before him, occasionally furrowing his brow and running a frustrated hand through his hair.

I had been harboring a question for him for quite some time, but until now, I lacked the courage to ask. However, the opportune moment seemed to have arrived, even though I didn't want to disturb him. After ten minutes of contemplation, the question still plagued my mind, and I made the decision to take a chance.

Summoning my resolve, I sat up straight, focusing my gaze ahead, preparing myself in case he chose to ignore me. "Leonardo," I called out his name, feeling the strange sensation of its pronunciation on my lips.

To my surprise, he responded, addressing me with a term of endearment. "Yes, bella?" he replied. I glanced over at him, my eyes lowered. "When did I regain that name?" I inquired, referring to the last time he had called me by that endearing term, which was likely when we first met. His response was a mere shrug, his eyes fixed on the paperwork before him. "You never lost it. Why did you call my name?" he asked.

Ignoring his earlier statement, I proceeded with my question. "Who was that woman and the two men you killed?" I asked, hoping to shed light on the events that had unfolded. Leonardo paused midway through turning a page, and a heavy silence settled in the room. I began to regret posing the question, thinking it might have been foolish to do so.

"Two men I killed?" he feigned ignorance, pretending to be oblivious to my inquiry. Rolling my eyes seemed like the appropriate response, but I refrained from doing so. It would be crazy to expose him as a killer when he was allowing me to go free. My life was at stake, and I valued it greatly.

"It's no secret what you do. You don't have to hide it from me," I stated matter-of-factly. I believed it was evident that I wasn't a snitch. I did whatever was necessary to survive, even if it meant keeping my mouth shut.

He looked over at me, our eyes locking, and a bolt of electricity seemed to surge through my body. His gaze was searching, as if delving into the depths of my soul, before he finally responded, "If I were hiding something, I wouldn't have shot them in front of you. I just find it strange that you claim I killed them when it's clear their wounds did."

I side-eyed him incredulously. "The wounds you inflicted on them, you know, with the gun you threatened my life with multiple times on multiple occasions," I retorted.