Dangerous Trio

Tesoro

Hannibal's home in Florence was breathtaking. The art on the walls and the luxurious furniture—it was something out of a dream. Despite the beauty, a quiet tension lingered. I was nervous, on edge, yet a lull enveloped me. Ignorance would best describe it.

I stepped onto the balcony, drawn by the mesmerizing view that stretched before me. The Duomo loomed in the distance, its iconic dome shrouded in the soft embrace of morning fog. The city seemed more serene, more mysterious under the weight of the sky, as though it were holding its breath.

Inside, Hannibal moved quietly, his presence both calming and commanding. He was busy making coffee, the rich aroma beginning to fill the room. In the stillness of the morning, his movements were fluid, almost deliberate, as though every gesture was part of an intricate dance. I imagined him in the operating room, his hands steady and precise, moving through the motions —an art form, almost as if he were the lead in a ballroom dance, orchestrating every step with elegance and purpose.

I closed my eyes. I felt Hannibal's presence behind me, and a moment later, he placed a warm cup of coffee in front of me. Without looking, I took it from his hands, cradling the cup, the heat seeping into my palms. The silence between us felt heavy, charged with something unspoken.

"Will is here." Hannibal's voice sliced through the silence, steady and casual, as if he were announcing the weather.

I turned sharply to face him, shock rippling through me. "What?" The word escaped before I could stop it, my mind stumbling to make sense of what he'd just said.

"I sent him on a... sort of adventure," Hannibal added, his tone laced with amusement, the corners of his mouth curling ever so slightly.

Confusion knotted in my chest, twisting tighter with every passing second, until irritation broke free. "Adventure? Or a rat race?" I snapped, my voice sharp enough to cut through the calm air.

Hannibal's eyes met mine, steady and unflinching, as though my anger amused him. "That depends on your perspective, doesn't it?" 

"Why would you do that to him?" My voice wavered, betraying a mix of frustration and disbelief. It was unsettling how effortlessly Hannibal could ignite my anger, as though he'd mastered every button to push.

"It's only fair," he said smoothly, as if he were discussing a trivial matter. "He must put in the work to have you."

Hannibal's calm assertion was unnerving.

"You're sick! He doesn't deserve that!" My voice cracked as the words spilled out, and I felt the sting of tears welling up in my eyes. The heat of my emotions made them burn, but I couldn't stop now. I spun on my heel, retreating from the balcony into the safety of the house.

I scanned the room for my coat and purse. My movements were frantic, my thoughts tangled in a storm of rage and panic.

Hannibal followed me inside, his footsteps unhurried. He stood with his hands buried casually in his pockets, his posture radiating arrogance and control. 

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, his tone calm.

"I'm going out to look for Will!" I snapped, hastily shrugging on my coat. My hands trembled as I wiped a tear from my cheek, but I refused to let myself falter. I stormed toward the door, determined.

But just as I reached the latch, his hand was already on the doorknob. He stood in my way, his towering frame blocking my path. I looked up at him, my heart pounding in my chest, and a sudden, chilling thought struck me.

"D-Does he know I'm here?" I asked, my voice shaking with fear.

His expression didn't waver, but his lack of a response spoke volumes.

"This is about you, isn't it?" I said, my voice growing stronger as realization dawned on me. "You did something to lure him to Italy—didn't you?"

I searched his face for confirmation, but his silence remained unbroken. My mind raced as I pieced it together.

The tears came, spilling down my face uncontrollably. My chest tightened, and my breathing became shallow; I was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. My thoughts spun, one after another.

Hannibal moved toward me. He cupped my face with both hands, his touch firm yet strangely tender. Before I could pull away, his hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers tangled in my hair. His grip was controlling, gentle in intent but violent in execution. He tilted my head back with practiced ease, and before I could protest, his lips claimed mine in a kiss that stole what little breath I had left.

The kiss was overwhelming, and it terrified me. My tears mingled with the heat of his touch, and my mind screamed for me to fight back, to push him away—but I was frozen.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes bore into mine, dark and brimming with an unsettling certainty. His voice was low, almost a whisper.

"My hope for us will all come into fruition," he said, each word deliberate.

"Gaby, you are the only light in this game."

His hand lingered on the back of my neck, his thumb brushing against my skin as though trying to calm me—or keep me tethered.

"You are the gift for me and Will to have while we play," he added, his tone laced with a twisted reverence.

I managed to get my hand free to unlock the door. Hannibal reached for the door to shut it, but I got my body through. I stumbled out, tripping over my own feet, crawling, then running towards the stairs. I held my breath until I reached the front door. It wasn't until I was in an alleyway that I realized Hannibal was not behind me. I braced myself against the wall of the building, reaching for my chest. I looked up only to see grey skies. I could smell rain. I couldn't help but feel hopeless and heartbroken. Somehow, I felt like it was all my fault. I thought of Will. What did Hannibal do to lead him here?