Dangerous Trio

I brushed the tears from my cheek and began to walk down the alley. I looked all around trying to see if I could spot Will. Florence was large; it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Intermittently I kept looking over my shoulder for Hannibal. I swear. It felt like he was still watching me, tracking me.

I walked across the square; the Uffizi Gallery was a prominent museum in Florence. I couldn't help but think of Hannibal. I stopped in my tracks for a moment. If Hannibal had led Will here, he must have given him some type of clues. I knew Hannibal's favorite painting was the Primavera, which was hanging in the Uffizi. I looked over to the gallery entrance to see that they were still selling tickets. I figured it was a long shot that Will was inside, but it was the only thing I could think of. I picked up my pace, heels clacking on the cobblestone. The sky started to look more and more dreary, and it soon started to rain again.

Inside I looked around for signs to the Primavera. It was eerily empty today. I continued to look around, desperate.

I spotted an entrance to another room. The lighting was low due to the paintings having their own lights that were cast on them. The floors were a darkened wood, making the room feel ominous. I began to slow my step; the room was empty.

As I moved toward the bench, all I wanted to do was cry. The thought of Will being lured here by Hannibal ignited a quiet fury in my chest. My mind betrayed me, replaying the violence of my escape—his grip, the force.

And then the kiss.

I knew Hannibal felt something for me, but affection from him was twisted into something dark and dangerous. Will was nothing like that—he was gentle, perceptive, and almost fragile. They were opposites, bound together by something I couldn't understand.

A sound slipped from my throat—a small, broken whimper. I sat down on the bench facing Primavera.

I folded into myself, burying my face in the sleeves of my wool coat. My mascara was surely running, but at that moment, I didn't care.

"Charlotte?" I heard my name softly.

I lifted my head, looking around. Nothing.

Then I heard footsteps approaching—slow, familiar.

Will.

I rose up in disbelief, eyes wide with fresh tears. I ran over and hugged him. I clung to him tightly, my head in his chest. His arms wrapped around me almost hesitantly, as if he too was in shock.

"Will," I let out slowly, looking up at his boyish face. I was expecting to meet his marble eyes, but he was focused on something else.

My hands.

"What's wrong?" I asked, shooting him a look of confusion.

He drew in a slow breath, like it hurt to do so.

"Hannibal," he whispered.

I slowly released myself from the hug.

"He led you here," I said, the words tight, controlled—but barely.

I searched his face, anger flaring hot and fast.

"How?" I demanded. "What did he do to you, Will?"

"He played a game... like he always does," Will said, his voice tight as he looked off.

"I thought you were in danger." He added as he gently took my hand to look closer.

"Where is he?"

I looked away, my chest tightening.