What We Left in the Dark

Forty Nine

The next day drifted by like a pleasant dream. I spent hours curled up on the porch swing, the fresh mountain air filling my lungs as I lost myself in the pages of an old favorite novel. The hours felt endless, the kind of timeless peace that I hadn't realized I craved until I was here.

By mid-afternoon, though, the real world beckoned. With some reluctance, I set my book down and powered on my phone. The screen lit up immediately, flooding me with the familiar chaos of work emails and notifications. My eyes scanned the pings with practiced efficiency until I reached my texts—empty except for one.

Gian:
I know where you are. As long as you are safe, we will leave you your space.

I exhaled deeply, equal parts relief and unease settling into my chest. Of course, Gian would know. The man had resources, connections, and a knack for finding out what he wanted. That he chose not to pursue me felt like a mercy. Still, I couldn't find the mental bandwidth to be unsettled by the revelation. I wasn't ready to question how he knew—only grateful he wouldn't intrude.

After shaking off the lingering weight of the message, I decided I needed a change of pace. My mom had mentioned craving fresh ingredients for dinner, and I latched onto the idea. There was a small town about thirty minutes away, known for its farmstands and locally grown produce. It felt like the perfect excuse to clear my head and do something productive.

The drive was a balm to my nerves. Winding roads and thick groves of trees passed in a blur of green and gold, the sunlight breaking through the canopy above. I finally pulled over at a small, dusty drive-up produce stand tucked into the side of the road. The table was lined with baskets of fresh greens, tomatoes, and fragrant herbs. I stepped out of the car, immediately drawn to the vibrant array.

As I began selecting a mix of vegetables, the sound of tires crunching against gravel made me glance up. Another car, an older black sedan, pulled up behind mine with unsettling haste. Dust swirled in the air as it screeched to a halt, clouding my view. I coughed, waving the dirt away, before two tall men emerged, their purposeful strides instantly putting me on edge.

The tension crackled in the air as they approached, flanking me on either side and effectively blocking me in.

"I know you're shitting me right now," I muttered to myself, rolling my eyes. I turned my back on them, resolutely facing the table again.

The first man reached for my wrist, but I twisted away sharply, clutching the greens I'd already gathered. My voice came sharp and unwavering. "Listen, if this has to do with the Riccis, I invite you to fuck off."

The men exchanged a brief, pointed look, their silence louder than any reply could have been. The second man stepped forward, reaching for me again, but I sidestepped quickly, picking up another bunch of kale with a casual defiance.

"Miss," one of them said, his voice steady but edged with an unsettling calm. "We are here on orders of Ricci, but not by the brothers."

His words hit me like ice water. My blood ran cold, but I refused to let them see my fear. "No difference to me," I shot back, my voice sharper than I felt. "You will wait."

"I'm going home to cook for my mom," I added firmly, throwing some cash into the honesty box at the stand. "If you insist on taking me, you'll wait until this evening."

I grabbed my produce and started walking briskly back toward my car, refusing to let my steps falter. My heart hammered in my chest, but I kept my chin high. The men trailed after me, one stepping in front to block my path just as I reached the door.

I turned, placing my vegetables neatly in the car before shutting the door. My movements were deliberate, calculated, as I turned back to face them. "You may follow me," I said, glaring at the two of them. "But don't pull down the driveway."

The man who had spoken earlier raised an eyebrow, but I didn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I climbed into my car, slamming the door, and started the engine with calm precision. My hands trembled on the wheel as I pulled back onto the road, the black sedan falling into place a few car lengths behind me.