Chapter 3: The Glided cage
758 Words
The flight to Italy was a blur of gray mist and cold moonlight. By the time the private jet’s wheels hit the hidden airstrip near the border, the adrenaline that kept me moving in London had turned into a heavy, sour exhaustion.
We were moved like ghosts in a line of black cars. Outside the window, Lake Como was beautiful in a way that felt like a warning. Tall cypress trees stood like guards against the water, and old stone walls were swallowed by thick ivy.
I wasn’t a tourist, though. I was a prisoner with a medical degree.
The Villa d’Ombra was a fortress dressed up as a palace. As the heavy iron gates hissed open, I saw a massive estate carved right into the side of the cliff.
"Welcome home, Doctor," Dante said. His voice was a low crawl that I felt in my bones more than I heard in my ears.
He was moving better now, but he still gripped a silver headed cane. He led me through a hall of white marble, his men following us like shadows. He didn't stop until we reached the west wing.
"Your room," he said, waving a hand at a suite larger than my whole flat in London. It was full of silk and gold, with a huge arched window looking out over the restless lake.
I turned on him. The tired ache in my chest finally snapped into pure heat.
"I don’t need a hotel, Dante. I need a lab. If I don't find a way to flush that toxin out of your system, your kidneys are going to quit. Today."
Dante stepped into my space. He was so close I could feel the heat coming off him. He reached out, his gloved thumb tracing the pulse in my neck. He knew exactly how fast my heart was thudding.
"Everything is ready," he murmured. "A surgical suite is being built in the basement. Every herb and chemical you asked for is on a truck from Milan right now."
"And if I try to walk out those gates?" I challenged, tilting my chin up.
Dante leaned down until his lips brushed my temple. He smelled like woodsmoke and the sharp, bitter scent of the medicine I’d put on his skin.
"The gates are electric. The lake is patrolled. My men have orders to bring you back in one piece, though I might let them break a few parts if you’re stubborn."
He pulled back, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "You are the most valuable thing I own, Amara. I don’t let my treasures wander."
He turned and walked out. The heavy oak door clicked shut, and I heard the unmistakable sound of a bolt sliding home. Locked in.
I paced the floor, my mind spinning. I was a top surgeon, trained to save lives in the best hospitals in the world. Now, I was a getaway doctor for the Mafia. If I stayed, I was a criminal. If I failed to save him, I was a dead woman.
I walked over to a vanity where a tray of food sat next to a laptop and a burner phone. I opened the laptop, my fingers shaking as I typed. I had to know what the news was saying.
The headlines were a nightmare. DR. VANCE DECLARED AN INTERPOL FUGITIVE. But then I saw it. A small article in a medical journal. Dr. Aris Thorne had just announced a breakthrough in neurosurgery using the exact technique I had spent years developing in my private journals.
The bastard hadn't just framed me for murder. He was stealing my life's work while I was trapped here.
A soft knock came at the door. It wasn't the heavy bang of a guard.
"Dr. Vance?" a girl’s voice whispered. "I have your supplies. And a message from the Master."
The door creaked open. A young girl stood there, her eyes wide. She held a crate of fresh herbs. At the very top, tucked into the lavender, was a single red rose.
A note was attached, written in sharp, elegant ink:
The world thinks you’re a killer. I know you’re a savior. Prove me right by morning, or we both become history.
— D.
I looked at the herbs. The poison the Viper’s Breath was already working. The second stage, the Silver Sleep, was next. If I didn't start the cure right now, Dante Moretti wouldn't wake up tomorrow.
I grabbed the crate and looked at the girl. "Take me to the lab. Now."
- Writer
