Morana fell into step as they walked west on the property as she observed everything around them. Men she’d from her window still flanked the property. Long stretches of grass lay between the house and the line of trees at the north, segregating the lake and beyond. Towards the west, she could see two different wings, one painted white and the other not painted but simply red-bricked, set almost at two different corners of the property. The white one was huge, set farther back than the red house. It had a flat roof above the third floor and black, wrought-iron railing on its balconies. The red-bricked house was much smaller in comparison, and had a slanting roof on one side above the first floor, with a simple wraparound porch.
They were headed to the red one.
“The one on the right is Dante’s,” Vin broke their silent walk, indicating the red-bricked house. Morana was surprised by the fact that A- he offered the information, and B- he called Dante by his first name. Filing that away for later, Morana took the opportunity to get more info.
“And the white one behind that to the left?” she asked, keeping pace with his brisk steps.
“That’s the staff building,” Vin informed. “They have apartments inside.”
Morana nodded, curious. “And the training center?”
Vin’s step faltered for a split second before he picked it up again, cutting her a glance from behind his shades. Morana kept her face innocent.
After a long moment, in which she thought he wouldn’t answer, he spoke. “That’s in the opposite direction. I would advise you to keep as far away from there as possible.”
Noted.
“Why did you give me the knife yesterday?” Morana asked the question that had been bugging her since she saw him. “Not that I’m not grateful, which I am. But I don’t understand the motives.”
Shutting her mouth, Morana blinked, surprised at herself. She babbled in her head, sure. All the time. But this was the first time she’d slipped into it outside of her mind. She had to be more careful, much more careful.
Vin shrugged. And stayed silent.
Not good enough.
“Seriously,” she prodded. “I need to know if you’re one of the good guys.”
Vin cut another glance at her. “None of the guys here are good, miss. But will I put a bullet in your head? Not unless you don’t cross me personally. Who else you cross or don’t doesn’t matter to me or my gun.”
Okay, that was good enough.
Morana nodded, glad to have that equation cleared. They arrived at Dante’s place and Vin knocked on the door once sharply. A few seconds later, the door was opened by an older woman with greying hair, a kind, wrinkled face, and Amara’s stunning green eyes. The woman couldn't be anyone but Amara's mother. And the fact that Dante had brought Amara’s mother to his wing as staff told her a lot more about the man.
Vin nodded at her and Amara’s mother and left without a word. The older woman’s face had split into a large, dimpled smile upon seeing Morana. Surprising the fuck out of her, the woman extended her hands hardened by yea
rs of hard work and took Morana’s, her eyes misting with tears.
“My baby told me you are her friend,” the woman told her in an accented voice. “She does not have friends, you see. I thank you.”
The purity of the woman’s heart touched something inside Morana she’d thought dead a long time ago – the proof of a parent’s universal love. Squeezing back the woman’s hands with all the emotions rumbling in her, Morana spoke softly, “Your daughter is the kindest, most generous spirit I have ever known. She’s been a true and strong friend to me. And she misses you very much.”
The woman smiled through her tears and pulled back her hands to wipe them. Opening the door wider, she invited Morana inside.
“Come in, child,” she said affectionately, locking the door after Morana entered and leading the way inside. The house was warm – its walls, its drapes, its wooden furniture, the browns and reds and creams just wrapping Morana up in its warmth. The smell of eggs and coffee and patchouli somehow mixed intricately together, the open windows bringing in the soft breeze, the sounds of wind chimes tinkling outside. It felt unlike any place she had ever been in. Warm. Cozy. Inviting.
“Dante told me you would be here,” the older woman continued, guiding Morana towards a cozy, plush brown couch and making her sit. Morana sank into the cushion. “Make yourself at home. Have you had breakfast?”
Morana shook her head, overwhelmed by all the emotions. The woman smiled. “I will bring some food and coffee for you. You like coffee, yes?”
Morana nodded. The woman stroked her head softly, in the manner a parent did to their child mindlessly as she had done it countless times before. It was the first time in Morana’s memory. She felt her chin tremble.
“Do your work, and if you need anything, call me,” the woman turned to leave.
“What do I call you?” Morana asked abruptly.
The woman grinned, her face lighting up and wrinkling. “Zia, of course. That is what Dante calls me.”
Morana smiled as she watched the woman go and exhaled. More shaken by the simple encounter than she’d expected to be, Morana saw the tremble in her hands as she pulled out her laptop and other equipment she needed from her bag. Slowly, as she set up on the table in front of her, Morana folded her legs under her and settled in.