Burning secrets

Chapter 3 Kat POV

By next morning, I was as restless as the night before. I kept replaying the entire conversation in my head, not quite knowing if I had imagined it. My phone lights up with a message from an unknown number: welcome back.

My blood ran cold. He knows I’m here. This is his way to let me know that there’s no way to run. My shaking hand holds the phone like a grenade. Ready to explode.

I get up and get dress after a few minutes. Can’t afford any questioning. I pick up a jacket mini skirt and a baggy white t-shirt; seems comfy for a stay-at-home day, but pretty enough to go outside in case I need to run errands.

I get out of my room and stumble across my aunt.

“Morning ma’am.”

“I know why you’re here. You think that with your charm and stupid fake smile you going to make my brother to leave everything in his will to you, you’re planning to kick me out the moment he kicks off. But I won’t let you. I would never allow a stray dog like you to get a single penny from him; it’s been more than enough what you got from him over these years.”

I just stared at her, anger flowing through my body, filling me up. I saw red. I raised a hand and connect it to her cheek. I understood everything the moment I heard the snap. Her smile told me everything I needed to know. She was provoking me and a fell into the trap like an i***t.

“What’s going on?” a shout from my father’s room reached the corridor. Her expression changed to complete and utter pain, tears dueling up in her eyes, she ran to her brother, throwing herself into his arms.

“Luca! I’m sorry, I just wanted to see if she could help me a little with the house while she stays and she snapped at me. I’m sorry I should have known better than to ask anything of her, but like she said, we are not her family.” She sobbed into his t-shirt.

“Katerina! What the f**k is she saying? Did you hit her?” anger was making him tremble, I feared for his health.

“Dad, is not like that she-“

“I asked a question Katerina! Is a yes or no answer! DID. YOU. HIT. HER?”

“Yes but-“

“Don’t want to hear it. Get your things and leave this house immediately. You are not to come back until you apologize to Nora.” He pressed his hand against his chest, doubling in pain. I ran to him but he slammed my hand away.

“Don’t touch me! I’m fine, I cannot believe I raise you to be this ungrateful. Nora, help me back.”

I stood there, watching him retrieve, half-expecting him to turn around and say he was wrong but he never did. The door closed behind them.

With tears blurring my vision, I stumble back to my room, gathering my things. I need to find Tony. He will talk to father, I know that. I can’t go with him thinking this badly of me.

I take my phone and call Tony, but I get the voicemail every time.

I leave the house, carrying my suitcase outside. I had no other choice. I started walking without a path, thinking what to do now. I don’t notice the van following me until they got to close to do something about it. I ran, speeding up to the top of my lungs, sharpening my senses looking for a way out.

I don’t know the moment I decided to run in this direction. It wasn’t a conscious decision; it was based in sole instinct. I keep running until I reach the entrance of the clubhouse.

The club was the headquarters for the organization. All the shady things they did, were planned within those walls. Enzo and Tony were the leaders of the organization, it was only natural for them to spend most of the day in there.

Tony had always told me to stay away from that place, and the only time he caught me there -I was 16- he scolded me so harsh I didn’t dare to disobey him again… until Enzo.

I ran inside without thinking twice. The doors closing shut behind me. As soon as I stepped in. the smell of beer and smoke filled my nostrils. A few heads turn to stare at me, some in recognition, some with curiosity. I ignore them all.

I keep walking till I reach the bar and signal the bartender.

“What can I get for you today beautiful?” he says winking an eye at me. I’m not on the mood to flirt nor whatever he is trying on me today.

“I need a beer.” He looked at me and finally realized the ‘f**k-off’ signal on my forehead advising him to stay away.

“Coming right up.” He poured the beer and hand it over.

“Tell me I’m hallucinating” his voice is a gravely rasp, barely above a whisper, yet it sends a violent shiver down my spine. “Because if you’re actually standing in my clubhouse right now...” he left the word hanging in the air.

“Then pretend I’m not here. I’m just waiting out the rain.” My voice steady, although I was shaking in the inside. The door opened and made me jump in my place. I drank up the beer in one breath and signaled the bartender to get me another.

He steps closer, invading my personal space until the heat radiating off his body is impossible to ignore.

“There’s more bars than houses in this town, yet you picked this one.” he says, voice dropping lower, rougher “so sit down. Drink your beer. Stop pretending you’re just passing through.”

His blue eyes drag over my face like he’s memorizing every detail; hungry and unapologetic.

“Stop it Enzo. Just go, I’ll stay here until the rain settles enough for me to leave. Go back to whoever you were doing.” I can’t help the comment. I press my hand around the beer, harder than what I intended.

The cigarette stops halfway to his mouth. Something flashes behind his eyes.

“Do whoever I was doing.”

He repeats, flat. Like tasting each word. The cigarette finds his lips. He pulls slow, lets the smoke sit in his lungs longer than he needs to, then exhales it towards the ceiling. His jaw is set like concrete but the corner of his mouth twitches -not a smile, something more satisfied than that.

Enzo leans back against the bar, both elbows up, his chest open to the room like he’s settling for good. He’s not going anywhere. Making it clear with every lazy inch of his posture.

“Nobody here tonight kitten. It was a slow night right up until you walked through that door.” He ashes the cigarette on a tray without looking at it; his eyes still looking at you.

“You wanna sit here and pretend I don’t exist, go ahead. I’ve got all night and nowhere better to be.”

“I’m flattered that almighty Enzo is willing to sit here with me, but I’ll pass. I knew this was a bad idea.” The thought of getting out of here terrifies me. But his presence was raising feelings I thought I buried 5 years ago. I drank the remaining of my beer and got up to leave.

His hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around my wrist; not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to stop me cold. His touch burned.

“You’re not leaving.” Said low, not a request. The rain is a thick wall behind the club doors and his eyes are tracking every movement of my body, getting the hand of the amount of alcohol in my system -he knows I’m a bad drinker- and something else, something I’d cut my own tongue out before admitting.

“I don’t give a s**t if you don’t want my attention kitten. You not getting out half-drunk during the storm. That’s just a fact.”

His hand tenses in my wrist. His other hand comes up – lands on the edge of the bar behind you, not on you, caging without touching.

“This is how it’s gonna go. Your going to sit your ass back down, drink some water and wait out the storm. Hear me?”

Thunder splits the sky outside so hard the bottles behind the bar rattle against each other.

“I’d rather drown.” I try to sound defiant, but I end up seating back in the stool. My heart hammering against my ribs. He let go of my hand and I immediately register the cold of his absence. I didn’t mean to end up here, it wasn’t a conscious decision. I just ran to the first place that could keep me safe. I knew they were probably still outside waiting for me. I turn back to the bar and grab my beer again.

Enzo doesn’t seat next to me. He sits on the stool over, giving me space. Takes a slow drag of his cigarette and watches me drink in the mirror behind the bar. My eyes keep flicking toward the door checking, waiting, flinching every time it opens up.

“Who’s after you.”

It comes out quiet. No rise at the end; is not a question. He’s turned toward me now, forearm on the bartop, cigarette forgotten between his fingers, every trace of that lazy sprawl burned off him like fog. Underneath I can see the thing that made men follow him, the thing that put a president’s patch on his back: the stillness before someone gets hurt.

“You didn’t come here because of the rain, Katarina. You walked at least 35 minutes under the rain, past countless coffeeshops and bars just to get here and walked in knowing I was inside. So, I’m asking you once and I need and answer. Who. Is. After. You.”