Page 8 of Of Lies and Shadows

The car is waiting at the curb.

I open the door, slide inside, and freeze.

“Bruno.” I exhale his name like a curse, like a prayer. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Listen,” he says quietly, eyes fixed on the road. “I thought about it. I can help you run.”

He doesn’t look at me when he says it—just keeps his voice low, steady.

“It would take days for your father and Don Salvatore to realize you never made it to Forzi’s. You’d be long gone by then.”

It’s tempting. I won’t lie. But what kind of life would that be?

“I’d spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder,” I murmur. “That’s not freedom. It’s just a different kind of prison.”

He starts the car with a sigh. “I tried to talk to him.”

“I know you did.” And I mean it.

I don’t know what Bruno’s father did for mine all those years ago, but it earned Bruno a level of access most men in the famiglia will never reach.

At twenty-five, he became my father’s personal guard, the only one who went everywhere with him.

It takes a lot to reach that kind of trust, even if my father isn’t as powerful as he pretends to be.

His direct access to Don Salvatore makes him useful.

But Bruno… Bruno has always been on my side.

“I’ll be fine.”

He lets out a quiet laugh. “Feels like you’re trying to pacify me.”

“Is it working?”

His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. “You’re a good person, Cece. Never forget that.”

I nod, swallowing hard, and we drive on in silence toward Forzi’s address.

Halfway there, he reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out what looks like a cheap pizza takeaway pamphlet.

“Here. Take this.” He holds it out to me, and I frown as I reach for it. “The pizza place is a front. The guy Derek, he’s a friend,” Bruno says. “If you’re in danger… if you’ve been made… if anything goes wrong. Call that number and order a triple pepperoni pizza. He’ll get you out within the hour.”

I stare at it. This isn’t from my father.

This is Bruno.AllBruno. And if I use it? He’ll pay for it in blood.

I tuck it into my jacket pocket. I won’t use it. I can’t—because I can survive this. But I couldn’t survive dragging Bruno down with me.

We make the rest of the drive in silence, and once he stops, he turns on his seat.

“Cece—”

“No.” I cut him off gently. “Don’t blow my cover. You’re just a rideshare driver, remember?”

I offer a small smile I don’t feel. “I’ll be fine.”

I grab my handbag and step out, tugging my suitcase from the trunk.

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