Chapter 10 - The Man Who Was Buried TwiceWe arrived at the abandoned church at eleven forty-eight.
Rain hammered the roof.
The red door waited beneath the broken archway.
Dante held my hand.
His fingers were cold.
“You're afraid.”
“So are you.”
He almost smiled.
“I don't scare easily.”
“Neither do I.”
“That isn't true.”
“What?”
“I've seen you frightened.”
“When?”
“When Matteo disappeared.”
He stopped.
“You were more afraid for him than yourself.”
I looked at him.
“He's a child.”
Dante's gaze softened.
“That is why I fell in love with you.”
The words stunned me.
He seemed just as surprised that he'd said them.
Before I could respond, the church doors slammed shut.
Lights flickered on.
At the altar stood a man.
Gray hair.
Black coat.
Walking cane.
I stopped breathing.
Dante went rigid.
“No.”
The man smiled.
“Hello, son.”
Dante's gun rose.
His father smiled wider.
“You look exactly like your mother.”
Dante's hand trembled.
“You died.”
“Did I?”
“You were buried.”
“Bodies are useful things.”
He laughed.
Dante took a step forward.
“You murdered her.”
His father sighed.
“Still blaming me.”
“You killed Isabella.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“She did.”
My skin went cold.
“What?”
Dante stared.
“What are you saying?”
His father pointed at me.
“Ask her.”
I shook my head.
“I don't remember.”
“You will.”
A screen dropped behind the altar.
Images appeared.
A hospital.
A young woman.
Me.
Luca.
Dante.
Then my mother.
A gunshot.
I screamed.
Memory exploded inside my head.
I was there.
I remembered.
My mother wasn't murdered by Dante's father.
She was murdered by someone else.
Someone standing behind him.
A younger man.
A man I had trusted.
I whispered:
“Michael.”
Dante turned.
“Who?”
“My fiancé.”
The screen changed.
Michael.
Seven years younger.
Holding a gun.
My mother screaming.
Then me.
Watching.
Michael turned toward me.
“No witnesses.”
The room spun.
Dante caught me.
His father smiled.
“Now you remember.”
I couldn't breathe.
Michael had killed my mother.
Then he had erased my memory.
Dante looked at his father.
“What happened next?”
His father answered:
“Luca saved her.”
I stared.
“Luca?”
“He took her to the hospital.”
“Why?”
“Because your fiancé was hunting her.”
Dante's eyes hardened.
“And why didn't you tell me?”
His father laughed.
“Because I needed you to become who you are.”
Dante aimed the gun.
His father looked at him.
“Go ahead.”
Dante's finger tightened.
Then a small voice came from behind the altar.
“Papa?”
Matteo.
Dante turned.
His son stood there.
Alive.
Unharmed.
Beside Michael.
My blood froze.
May you like
Michael smiled at me.
“Hello, Elena.”
