Mara pov
The next morning, the house didn't feel like a prison. It felt like a home, and that was the scariest part. The air wasn't stale or cold; it was thick with the scent of rosemary, garlic, and browning butter. I stood at the top of the stairs for a moment, listening. No shouting, no sounds of guns being cleaned, just the soft clink of a metal spatula against a pan.
I walked down to the kitchen. My footsteps were quiet, but I knew he heard me.
Lorenzo was standing at the gas stove. He looked different without his suit jacket and crisp white shirt. He was bare-chested, wearing only his black trousers.
The bandage on his left shoulder was stark against his skin, and I could see the way his muscles bunched and pulled uncomfortably every time he moved. He was using his right hand to stir, his left arm held tight and stiff against his ribs.
"Where is Cemal?" I asked, pulling a chair out.
Lorenzo didn't turn around immediately. He finished tossing whatever was in the pan before speaking. "He went to get groceries. We were running low on the things you like. The strawberries and that specific bread you eat."
I watched him move his back again, looking pale, almost gray under the kitchen lights. "You should be in bed, Lorenzo. Your wounds haven't healed completely. You're pushing yourself too hard." I said.
He turned around then. His eyes were dark, shadowed by a fever he was clearly trying to hide. "I've had worse than a shoulder wound, Mara. Being weak is for the dead. Come here."
I hesitated, then walked over. He pointed to a small jar of ointment and a roll of fresh gauze sitting on the counter.
"Cemal isn't here to play nurse," he said, his voice a low, rough growl. "Apply the ointment. My arm won't reach the back today."
My heart hammered against my ribs as I opened the jar. The smell of the medicine was sharp and medicinal. I reached out, my fingers trembling as they touched his skin. He was burning up. As I rubbed the cool cream onto the jagged, red edges of the bullet hole, I felt a shiver run through his entire body. He didn't make a sound, but his jaw was clamped so tight I thought his teeth might crack.
"How was your walk yesterday?" he asked suddenly. He was staring straight ahead at the wall, but I could feel his focus entirely on me.
"It was okay," I said, my voice coming out smaller than I wanted. I carefully taped the new gauze down. "I just walked. It was nice to be out of these walls for a while."
"And your friend? Didn't you see any of your friends?"
My hand faltered for a split second before I smoothed the tape. "No. Not yesterday."
He didn't say anything. He just stood there for a long time, letting the silence stretch between us. Then, he turned back to the stove and started dishing out two large portions of steak and pasta into plastic containers. He moved with a slow, agonizing precision.
"Here," he said, pushing the containers toward me. He also set a fresh stack of cash and a shopping bag on the counter. "This is your reward for taking care of me. Go out again. Buy yourself a dress. And take this food. In case you run into any friend today."
I watched as he picked up a fork and took a small, slow bite from both containers. He chewed, swallowed, and looked me dead in the eye. "It's safe. I tasted it. I wouldn't want anyone getting sick on my watch."
I felt a cold drop of sweat slide down my back. He was acting so calm, so domestic, but his eyes were like two pieces of flint. I took the bags and the food, my mind a mess of fear and confusion. I didn't wait for him to say anything else. I just turned and left.
A few hours later, I met David at our usual spot in the park, the bench near the old oak tree where the grass was overgrown. He was already there, leaning forward with his head in his hands. When he saw me walking toward him, he stood up, a small, tired smile breaking across his face.
"You're back," he said, pulling me into a hug. He smelled like the coffee from the campus cafeteria and the old wool coat he always wore. It was the smell of my old life.
"I told you I'd come back," I said, sitting down beside him. I pulled the containers out of the bags and handed one to him. "Here. I cooked this for you. I know you haven't been eating right."
I felt the lie like a stone in my mouth. I couldn't tell him Lorenzo had made it. David thought I was staying with a "my aunt" who was helping me out. If I told him the truth, that the man who made this pasta had a gun under his pillow and a trail of bodies behind him. David would never sleep again.
"You cooked this?" David asked, his eyes widening as he smelled the rosemary. "Mara, this is like restaurant food. Where are you staying that has a kitchen like this?"
"It's a nice place, David," I said, trying to sound normal. "The... the aunty I'm with, she has everything. But I don't want to talk about her, tell me about school. How was the English lit seminar?"
David sighed, taking a large bite of the steak. "It was okay. Professor Miller asked where you were. I told him you were dealing with family stuff. Everyone misses you, Mara. Sarah keeps asking when you're coming back to the dorms. She says the room feels too quiet."
"I miss her too," I whispered. I looked at the silver bracelet on my wrist and pulled my sleeve down to hide it. "Did she ever finish that art project? The one with the charcoal?"
"Yeah, she finished it. It's hanging in the hallway now," David said. He looked at me, his eyes full of a soft, aching kind of love. "We're supposed to go to that bonfire next Friday. Remember? We planned it months ago."
"I remember," I said. My heart ached, knowing I wouldn't be at any bonfires. I knew I'd be in a dark house with a man who smelled like blood and expensive cologne. "Tell me more. Tell me about the mundane things. Did they ever fix the vending machine in the basement?"
We sat there for a long time, just talking. We talked about his classes, about our friends, and about the tiny, unimportant things that used to be my whole world. For a little while, I forgot about Lorenzo. I forgot about the basement and the blindfold.
But then, a black car drove past the park slowly, and I found myself holding my breath until it disappeared around the corner.