Chapter 21: Nothing in My Hand but Wood

Nina's POV

Teresa drove the bakery van up the hill.

I held the dashboard with both hands.

"Call the old man's wife," I said. "Tell her the grove, and tell her to bring everyone."

"Everyone who?"

"Everyone who stood in that lane."

Teresa put the phone to her ear and swore at the gears at the same time.

We left the van at the wall and ran up the slope.

I stopped at the edge of the trees.

Alessio stood with his back to the oldest trunk, a cream paper in his hands.

Four men in dark jackets made a half circle around him.

Domenico Montanari stood in front of them, with a pistol hanging from one hand.

Nobody had seen me yet.

"Give it to me, Alessio," said Domenico. "It's an old piece of paper. I'll have it, and you'll go home."

"No."

"It's not yours to keep. It's my family's."

"It's my father's, and you hid half of it for twenty years."

Domenico sighed.

He lifted the pistol almost lazily and fired.

The bark exploded two inches from Alessio's ear.

Splinters flew into his hair.

He did not flinch, and he did not give up the paper.

"The next one will not be for the tree," said Domenico.

I started to run.

I do not remember deciding to.

My shoes slipped on the dry leaves as I broke out of the trunks into the clearing.

My hand was already in my coat pocket.

It closed on the little stub of olive wood.

I went past Domenico's men before they knew what I was.

I came to the tree, and turned around, and stood in front of Alessio with my back against his chest.

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