The Veil Of Vows

Ghosts Never Leaves

Like a blade, the loud alarm shattered The Sanctuary.

Before my body caught up with my brain, I was already moving.

Teresa screamed, "He's crashing!"

Esposito convulsed violently against the hospital mattress, the man who had whispered his name. His respiration was weak and irregular as he clutched the sheets. The white linen was once more dyed crimson as blood poured through the new bandages around his stomach.

I said, "Hold him still!"

Another volunteer held his legs while Sophia gripped his shoulders. I grabbed for the syringe. Teresa persevered and put the sedative into the IV.

I muttered, "Come on," more to myself than to him. "Stay close."

Before the tremors progressively lessened, his body resisted the drug for several painful seconds.

The heart monitor's furious pandemonium gave way to an erratic beat.

Beep.

Beep.

...beep.

The air that had been held in my lungs was at last let out.

"He'll survive," I whispered.

Teresa gave her head a little nod. "For the time being."

At the moment.

The two words remained in the room after everyone else began to breathe again.

I heard the name he had uttered over and over again.

Esposito.

not as recognition.

As terror.

Never had the Sanctuary seemed so open to assault.

While dawn was still concealed behind the stone walls, I assembled the volunteers in the main corridor below the monastery.

I declared, "No one gets in without first being checked."

"Increase the number of watches at each entrance by two."

"Rotate the patrol hourly."

"Should anyone spot strangers in close proximity to the monastery, I expect to be informed without delay."

The volunteers gave one another awkward looks.

One finally posed the question that no one wanted to have answered.

"Do you anticipate any trouble?"

I paused.

"I'm unsure."

I was more terrified by that than I would have been by certainty.

Outside the recovery room, I was met by Sophia.

"You suspect someone followed him."

"I believe someone shot him six times."

"Three."

I saw her.

"What is it?"

"He's been shot three times."

She gave a tired grin.

"You've been overstating things since you stopped getting enough sleep."

Even with everything, I chuckled gently.

Nearly as rapidly as it came, it went.

My arm was touched by Sophia's palm.

"It's not about the patient."

"No."

"It's about the name."

I turned my gaze away.

Three years.

Without saying it out loud for three years.

without permitting myself to consider the individual who created it.

However, that well-considered separation had been destroyed by a single terrified whisper.

"That life was buried by me."

Sophia's voice stayed soft.

"The dead tend to emerge from their graves."

The stranger woke up in the late morning.

His eyelids fluttered.

He breathed more quickly.

Before he could try something foolish, I moved close to the bed.

His eyes suddenly opened.

Confusion lasted for only a split second.

He was then overcome with terror.

He took the oxygen cannula off his face and reached for the IV line in his arm.

"No!"

He tore free before I could grab his wrist.

He rasped, "Let me go!"

"You're reopening your wounds."

"I'll be found."

"Whom?"

"They always do."

He attempted to rise.

Before his feet even touched the ground, he was halved by suffering.

I led him back to the mattress.

"You've lost a significant amount of blood."

"I need to go."

"You will pass away before nightfall if you depart right now."

He gazed at me.

really stared.

As if seeing something impossible.

He began to breathe more slowly.

He squinted.

"You..."

His voice was barely audible.

"You shouldn't be here."

I felt a cold shiver go down my back.

"What does that mean?"

He ignored the inquiry.

Instead, he looked at my face with more and more skepticism.

"You are the exact copy of..."

His sentence turned into quiet.

I moved a chair nearer.

"I'm Dr. Elena Rossi."

The falsehood left my mouth as readily as breathing.

"I preserved your life."

"I never requested that you do."

"No."

I gazed back at him unwaveringly.

"However, since you're still alive, I would appreciate some responses."

He kept his silence.

"What is your name?"

Nothing.

"Who shot you?"

Quiet.

"Why were you fleeing?"

He clenched his teeth.

I leaned forward.

"What made you say Esposito?"

The response was immediate.

His face lost what little color it had left.

Under my fingertips, his pulse quickened.

Then he gazed at the ceiling, every shadow in the space, and the door.

Last but not least...

He turned his attention back to my eyes.

Without distrust.

Sympathetically.

"Do they know?"

I grimaced.

"Do you know what?"

His voice trembled.

"The fact that you're still alive."

Like a cold mist, the issue lingered in the space.

Sophia and I looked at each other.

We both remained silent.

Before moving on, the stranger coughed with difficulty.

"They are looking for..."

His breathing became erratic.

"...for a lady."

"What lady?"

"Black hair."

He examined me closely.

"Eyes of hazel color."

My heartbeat faltered.

"They have photographs."

The knot in my chest grew tighter with each statement.

My voice was still.

"Who is looking?"

He shook his head vigorously.

"I am unable to."

"You're capable."

"Should I inform you..."

He shut his eyes.

"...they will kill everyone here."

Eventually, his power gave out.

Against the cushion, his head moved to the side.

His blood pressure was dropping once more, according to the monitor.

Sophia cautioned, "He's fading."

I grabbed the IV fluids.

"Keep an eye on me."

His eyelids flapped gently.

Before unconsciousness once more took control, he spoke one last word.

"They stated..."

He had a crack in his voice.

"She is worth more living than dead."

Silence filled the room.

With fear replacing any hint of optimism, Sophia stared at me.

Since arriving in Porto Azzurro... for the first time.

Home didn't feel secluded anymore.

The Esposito property had been constructed to instill obedience long before it instilled dread.

Every portrait on the walls was silently observing as generations of power resounded throughout its marble halls. Men entered the villa with confidence, only to be reminded of their exact position upon departure.

They were here to measure me today.

The council chamber's double doors opened.

The chat came to an immediate halt.

Each of the eight commanders who surrounded the long walnut table oversaw a portion of the Esposito dominion. Greeting was done by some people leaning their heads. Some people didn't even attempt to hide their confrontational stare.

With an unreadable expression, Marco Ricci sat back in his chair at the far side of the room.

Luca stood behind me, arms crossed, leaning against the wall.

Constantly monitoring.

Always paying attention.

My father's chair was where I sat.

It still felt too large.

"Let us begin."

A map of Sicily was shown on the table, indicating current attacks, police operations, and contentious areas.

I stated that in the previous half-year, the assaults in Palermo had doubled. "Our activities are attracting unwanted attention from someone. Today, that finishes."

Vittorio, the captain, sneered.

"Does an Esposito worry about the police at all?"

"They don't scare me."

"What's the point of retreating?"

"It's about surviving long enough to succeed."

He smacked his hand down on the table once more.

"We created this family using strength."

"No," I replied steadily. "We built it via discipline. "There is a difference."

It became colder in the space.

Vittorio tilted ahead.

"With fear, your father controlled."

He looked directly into my eyes.

"You're making an effort to govern according to your conscience."

Many men nodded in agreement.

Others averted their gaze.

Marco quickly covered his faint grin with a look of worry.

"Captains only worry that change might be interpreted as weakness," he remarked softly.

A pleasant observation.

One that urged them to dirty their hands while keeping his own clean.

For a long time, I stared at him.

"And what do you think, Marco?"

He stretched out his hands.

"Whoever proves competent, I think the family follows."

An exhaustive response.

Overly cautious.

Another captain talked before I could answer.

"I've heard you've called off three retaliations this month."

"I have."

"What for?"

"Because it does not reward our troops to take revenge."

Silence descended throughout the room.

I slowly got out of my seat.

"Governments respond when civilians perish."

From one captain to the next, I stared.

"When governments react, businesses suffer."

Another pause ensued.

When businesses are in trouble...

I placed my hands on the table.

"...families go hungry."

There was no response.

"I'm not asking you to start acting merciful."

I kept my voice calm.

"I'm advising you to become smarter."

The captains lowered their gazes one after the other.

Not in regard.

In grudging acceptance.

For right now...

That would be sufficient.

With quiet resentment and compelled agreement, the conference concluded.

Marco waited close to the entryway as the commanders left the room.

"Your father would have handled them in a different way."

"He is not seated in this chair."

Marco tipped his head.

"No."

His lips bore a grin.

"They still judge all of your choices against his, though."

He then left.

Luca waited until the doors were shut.

"He likes to poke at flames."

"I took notice."

"You ought to have fired him years ago."

"Before I can delete anyone, I need proof."

Luca emitted a low grumble.

"That is the difference between you and your dad."

I peered through the huge windows facing the Mediterranean.

Half of this space would have been put to death by my father.

"You're also asking if there's any hope for them."

I didn't respond.

Because he was correct.

We stepped onto the terrace, where the sea extended indefinitely under a pale afternoon sky.

The wind carried the fragrance of citrus and salt.

I had stood on a cliff three years prior, looking out over this same ocean, and Elena had said that she desired a life free from violence.

Three days after...

My name was learned by her.

Three hours later...

She had vanished.

The silence was broken by Luca.

"Milan was searched by our guys."

"I'm aware."

"Naples."

"I'm aware."

"Marseille."

I gave a nod.

"Vienna."

"Nothing."

He sighed.

We've tracked dozens of women who resemble her.

"They were not she."

"No."

"They never were."

I was carefully examined by Luca.

"You might cease searching."

I almost burst out laughing.

Instead, I sat and observed the waves breaking over the rocks underneath.

"I do not wish for her return."

Even I was taken aback by the remarks.

"All I need to know is that she's alive."

Luca remained silent.

"If she's happy..."

In my throat, I swallowed the weight.

"...then she has the right to continue in that condition."

He turned away, giving me the privacy that is occasionally necessary for dignity.

"You still have affection for her."

"I never quit."

The confession dangled between us.

Uncooked.

Not to be denied.

Her absence was felt in every city I went to.

I was reminded of the mornings we had never spent together by each new sunrise.

Every triumph seemed incomplete since the one person I had hoped to inform wasn't there to hear it.

Luca eventually spoke.

"What's the point of searching?"

The horizon where the ocean and sky merged drew my gaze.

Because every city I visit reminds me of where she isn't.

A loud vibration shattered the peace.

From his jacket, Luca removed a phone that had been encrypted.

As he read the message, his demeanor changed.

"What's it?"

He didn't reply straight away.

Instead, he enlarged a picture that had been taken from the opposite side of a little road.

A woman emerging from a cafe near the beach.

Her neck's base was loosely curled into dark hair.

The pavement was glanced at by hazel eyes.

Just a portion of her face was seen.

Below the image was one line.

Confirmation is pending, but it might be a match. Porto Azzurro.

Luca glanced at the display.

Next, towards me.

He gently set the phone on the table in front of us.

"Boss..."

The patio fell silent for a long time.

"I believe we've finally located her."

The photograph was in front of me.

For the first time in three years, my heart missed a beat.

Hope was back.

And for some reason...

More than losing her ever had, it terrified me.

She didn't know that the man she had been avoiding for three years had just seen her face again hundreds of miles away from the lady in the image.