Syndicate Tour
Rome
“How much farther?” I glanced at my phone as my breaths shortened. To say I was nervous about going back to Rome was an understatement. I could practically smell the gasoline and burning embers from my bedroom. My memories threatened to overpower me, and my fear of how we would be received this first time entering Coppola territory now under Capri rule made things even worse.
“About ten minutes.” Elio continued to stare at the laptop that rested on his lap. I knew he had a lot going on, but I desperately needed his attention to settle my nerves. He’d been a bit off since his night out with his friends. He did say they’d run into some trouble, but he’d been distracted ever since, and when I questioned him, he deflected and never went into any detail. I let it go, as I
