Page 96 of Beneath the Shadows

“The photographer has a remarkable gift for capturing simple moments.”

I scan the photos closely, hoping for some clue as to her whereabouts, but come up empty. “These aren’t her usual shots of Philadelphia,” I comment, frowning.

“No, they’re not. These were taken in Magnolia Springs, Alabama,” she replies.

“Magnolia Springs,” I repeat. This is the break I’ve been waiting for. “It looks like a beautiful place.”

“It does,” she agrees with a nod. “Quiet, peaceful—a perfect escape from the city.”

I nod, my pulse quickening. “I’d like to purchase this one,” I say, pointing to a photograph of a couple sitting on a park bench. The woman’s head rests on the man’s shoulder. He gazes at her with a look of pure adoration. Something about the image strikes a chord deep inside me.

“Of course,” she replies, smiling as she wraps up my purchase.

As I walk out of the gallery, the tension in my shoulders begins to ease for the first time in weeks. I have a lead—finally. Magnolia Springs. That’s where she’s been hiding.

Pulling out my phone, I dial Dante. He picks up almost immediately.

“I’ve got a location,” I say without preamble. “Magnolia Springs, Alabama.”

There’s a brief pause before Dante speaks. “How sure are you?”

“Certain enough to bet my life on it,” I reply, gripping the phone tighter.

“Magnolia Springs. Never heard of it,” he says thoughtfully. “When do we leave?”

“As soon as possible. I’m not giving her another chance to disappear,” I say, the determination in my voice leaving no room for argument.

“Are we flying?”

“No. We’ll drive. I want to keep things low-key—nothing that will draw any unnecessary attention,” I say, grateful to have him by my side.

“How long do you need?”

“Meet me at my apartment in an hour.”

It doesn’t matter how far Alessia’s run. I’ll find her and bring her back. Our lives are entwined, whether she likes it or not. That makes her mine.

And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect what’s mine.

Antonio

Dante and I pull into the gravel lot of a small, run-down motel just outside Magnolia Springs. The neon sign buzzes faintly, casting a faint red glow over the parking lot. It’s the kind of place that’s easy to forget as soon as you leave, which makes it perfect for our needs.

Inside the motel office, the clerk barely glances up from his magazine as I check us in under fake names. I accept the keys without a word, and we head to the room at the end of the row. The door creaks as I push it open, revealing a cramped space with peeling wallpaper, a sagging bed, and the musty scent of stale air. Dante drops his bag on the floor with a grunt, and I toss mine onto the single chair by the window.

“We’ve stayed in worse,” Dante mutters, surveying the room.

“Not by much,” I reply, locking the door behind us.

Sitting on the edge of the bed with my elbows resting on my knees, I stare at the worn carpet beneath my feet. The weight of the task ahead feels like a brick pressing against my chest. How the hell am I going to find Alessia in this town without raising suspicion?

“So, what’s the plan?” Dante asks, cutting straight to the point.

“I’ll spend the next couple of days feeling things out,” I say, pulling up a map of the area on my phone. “It’s a small town. Shouldn’t take long to cover the main areas.”

“You sure about going in alone? We could cover more ground if we both go.”

“Too risky. This place is quiet. If two strangers start poking around, people will notice. You stay here, keep an eye on the motel and surrounding area. If anything goes wrong, I’ll need a quick exit.”

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