Page 3 of Red Retaliation
Sweat pours down my brow as my eyes dart around the scene in front of me. It’s not like I can slice my own throat. Well, I could, but I have no urge to die. Not nowhe’sgone.
But I can feign my own death. Or maybe a disappearance?
What occurred here must remain unknown long after I pave out a new life for myself. I’ve come too far for it to end now. But I haven’t got long to sort things out. No time to pack, get money or documents to leave the country. Besides, I have no idea where Roberto kept that kind of stuff. Apparently, I had “no need” to know.
Maybe I didn’t, but I do now.
I glance back at my husband, despising him further even in death. He wouldn’t tell me anything now even if he could.
There’s no time to waste. I need to get cleaned up and get the hell out of here. The second we’re late for dinner, someone will be sent over, and then everything will be uncovered. I have time to take nothing. Not that there’s anything here I want.
Stumbling over to the mirror, I grit my teeth and wrap my hand in a fistful of my long, black hair. I barely feel the pain as I tear a tuft from myhead and scatter the silky hair across the dressing table, hoping it gives the impression I’ve been dragged off.
Maybe, maybe not, but right now it’s not my most pressing concern.That, is where I go from here. And there’s only one place I can think of with people who might go along with my idea.
It’s not a choice I want to make, but it’s the only one I have.
There’s just one last thing I need to do before leaving. I need a bargaining chip, so I must find that knife. I need evidence of what I’ve done to prove what I tell my enemies is true.
CHAPTER
2
Arianna
Now...
IHOVER NEAR THE DOOR, fighting to keep my balance as the tube clatters its way towards Battersea. I hope my eyes aren’t darting around. I’m desperate not to make eye contact with anyone, convinced they’ll read my mind and pick between the lines of the swirling mess in my head and decipher in glaring clarity that I’ve just murdered my husband.
They might also somehow be able to tell that I’ve got something that belongs to him in my handbag.
Killing Roberto happened three hours ago now, but I was treading water within the anonymity of the busy station, watching and waiting to see if my family came looking for me to drag me kicking and screaming back to face the consequences.
In reality, it feels like only ten seconds since my husband was still the threat he’s always been, but the initial elation of being free from the monster I’ve been enslaved to for two long years has dissipated because I’ve only succeeded in making my life worse.
If I was asked yesterday, or even earlier today, if my life could be more unbearable, I’d have shaken my head with a resounding “no”. Not that I often voice my opinion - it’s not worth the fallout, but now I realize, albeit too late, that thingscanbe worse.
Much worse.
Not only that, but I’m throwing myself out of the frying pan into the fire. From what I’ve heard, where I’m trying to get to will be worse than anything. But there’s no choice if I want to avoid bringing retaliation downon my parents, brother and sister’s heads. Whatever my parents did to seal the hell of my life, I won’t shoulder the guilt of destroying them. One ruined life is bad enough and that ruined life is mine. Roberto’s doesn’t count. His life is over, and despite what that brings with it, I’m glad.
I crane my neck to peer above the other passengers on the train, my legs aching from keeping my balance as it thunders along.
“Sorry”, I mutter, quickly moving my hand as it brushes someone else’s fingers also holding on to the pole, although I don’t know why. I guess I’m used to apologizing, but I don’t have to anymore.
I hug my handbag closer and hope the ponytail I’ve hastily fashioned hides the bald patch I’ve inflicted on myself.
How I wish I hadn’t worn these Louboutins. There’s a man further down the carriage whose eyes burn holes into me. My heart pounds faster. Will he rob me of my shoes or attack me for a fix of drugs?
Put me back where I came from?
I’ve just killed a man, yet I have no clue how to defend myself. I’ve never had to. No one crosses the Galvatores. My father would tear a person limb from limb if anyone looked at me, my sister or my mother longer than a passing glance. Anyone that is, short of the man he married me off to.Thatman was free to do what he liked.
Because I belong to him.
Didbelong to him...
Not anymore.
