“You good?” he asked.
“I’m good,” I responded, but it was clear in his gaze that he didn’t believe me. “I’m happy for all of you guys,” I said, hoping to change the subject. “I promise we’re gonna end this soon so that we can all get on with our lives.”
Luca didn’t push, and everyone else seemed to find peace in the thought of putting the business in our rearview. A rare, harmonious quiet fell around us. We engaged in a little bit more idle chatter until my phone finally rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and answered it immediately at the sight of the name on the caller ID.
“Hey.”
“Hi. Are you with your brothers?” Willow asked.
I looked around at all of them. “Yeah, my brothers are right here. Molly, too.” They stopped and looked at me at the mention of them. “Is everything okay?”
“Well…”
Panic bulldozed through me again. “Willow, what’s wrong? What happened?”
“I’m okay. Stacy’s okay. Stacy’s more than okay, she’s a badass, so we’re fine, but we need you to come to the studio.”
“What happened at the studio?”
Gabriel sat up straight, his eyes wide with fear. “What’s going on?”
“There’s a woman here. Just bring your brothers and Molly.”
I nodded. “We’re on the way.” Everyone started to move immediately.
“Oh, Sandro?”
“Yeah?”
Willow sighed. “Come armed. We definitely have a problem.”
8
Alessandro
My brothers wanted to drive to the studio together, but they were taking too long. When Marco went to his gun locker, I abandoned all hope that they were going to move with the urgency I needed them to and ran to my car on my own. I hopped into the driver’s seat and jumped a little at my passenger’s door opening.
Gabriel climbed in and looked at me. “I agree. They’re moving way too fucking slow.”
I didn’t respond, nor did I need to. Stacy was the other one there with Willow, and even though she’d long since proved she could take care of herself, Gabriel was likely just as panicked as I was. I started my car, and it screeched against the road as I burned rubber getting out of the driveway. Gabriel shouted shortcut directions at me as we sped through the streets of Philly until we were finally pulling up in front of Stacy’s studio. We were barely parked before we were both out of the car and stepping quickly to the door.
We opened it, and I followed Gabriel through the abandoned front room into a glass-enclosed studio. There was a woman with black hair in a chair with Stacy standing in front of her, pointing a gun directly at her face. Willow was standing back against the wall perpendicular to the door, and a wave of visible relief rushed over her when she saw me.
“Sandro.” Her voice calling out to me was like the pull of a strong rubber band. I completely ignored Stacy and her hostage in the interest of running over to Willow to make sure she was okay.
“Are you hurt?” I asked, my eyes already scanning her form for signs of unrest.
“I’m okay,” Willow replied. “I was actually having a really relaxing time before all of this. I like yoga. It helps a lot. I’d like to keep doing it.”
“Then I think you should,” I responded, running a hand through Willow’s hair and smiling when she didn’t resist.
She nodded. “I think so, too. Maybe not here, though.” She looked over at Stacy and the woman in the chair. “Although I don’t think I’ll ever feel unsafe around Stacy again. She’s a mons
ter. I didn’t expect it from our resident hippy.”
“Holistic person,” Stacy responded. She didn’t like the word hippy, less for the word’s actual meaning and more for the stereotypes it carried.
“Well, she’s a ride-or-die type of woman, just like all of the Varasso wives. We all got pretty lucky,” I said. Willow eyed me, but instead of her usual discomfort with my tendency to continue talking to her like we were happy and in love, she had warmth behind her eyes.