Chapter 20: The Chapel

Carina's POV

"No," Ettore said.

He had heard the whole call from the edge of the bed with his jaw set.

"She said alone," I said.

"She said it so you'd do something stupid."

"She said she'd start with him." I was already pulling on my trousers. "And Dario said don't come. In six years he has never once told me that."

"You owe him nothing."

"I owe nothing to Dario. I owe the table a living man to send away." I zipped my coat. "Come behind me, Ettore. Don't come with me."

He looked at me for a long moment, and I saw him decide.

"I'll bring the oldest capo's sons," he said. "We go in the back. If you hear me, you'll hear glass."

"Then I'll listen for glass."

"Carina."

He caught my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist.

"Walk slowly," he said.

Santa Rosalia lay under a low white sky.

The chapel stood at the heart of the old section, small and square, with a shingled roof and a door of black oak.

Someone had chained the two handles together and left the padlock hanging open.

I took the chain off, pushed the door and went in.

The air smelled of lamp oil.

Candles burned on the altar, and the pews were dark and wet along every row.

Dario sat in the front pew with his wrists bound behind him and a cut across his cheekbone.

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