Missing

RAIN STARTED SLASHING against the hard ground, and by tomorrow, Giancarlo knew he would be as good as invisible to those who hunted him. The raging storm would wash away any remaining traces of his scent, but while this bought him much-needed time...the inclement weather brought with it a new hurdle for him to overcome.

The cold didn't just make every part of his body hurt a thousand times worse. It also left him susceptible to pneumonia and sepsis, depending on how long he went without treatment.

Giancarlo's head pounded as he tried to take stock of his injuries.

A head concussion, a couple of fractured ribs, and a gunshot wound on his left shoulder.

But what disturbed him the most was how he couldn't feel his fucking legs.

At all.

He knew faith was supposed to move mountains, but as the cold seeped deeper into his bones, and his vision started to blur...

Please don't.

Not this, God.

Please don't....

Giancarlo found himself struggling to even remember what he was praying about.

Don't...

Don't...

Don't...

And that was when the devil began to whisper into his ear.

The world isn't going to stop turning if you die.

So why not give in?

What else are you living for?

A monster started clawing at the walls of his mind.

No!

Its name was Delirium, and it would not be denied.

HIS GRANDMOTHER SNAPPED her fingers at his face. "Giancarlo?"

Was this really happening?

Potenziana looked at him oddly. "Are you alright?"

He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry."

The older woman pointed at his hands, and when he glanced down, Giancarlo was stunned to find himself holding a folder.

"Aren't you going to read it?"

His heart started pounding for some reason as he opened the folder. It was an investigative report about the bloodiest day in their famiglia 's history.

"What's this?" he heard himself ask.

"What do you think?" his grandmother snapped. "It's a list of all the things that went wrong that day. They're the reason why your father and grandfather are dead."

Giancarlo looked at the list once more, but it was as if he had suddenly turned dyslexic. Everything was a jumbled mess except for one word.

CRIPPLE

"You get it now, don't you?" his grandmother demanded. "Don't bother coming back if you're less than your old self."

Cesare closed his eyes.

No.

No.

No.

WHEN HE OPENED HIS eyes, he was no longer in his grandmother's office.

Instead, he was in her bedroom.

And she was crying.

"Where have you been? Why did it take you so long? They all wanted to hurt me. And my father wants me to marry one of them."

He could feel himself whitening at the terror on her face.

"I'll protect you—-"

"How?" she cried out. "How can you protect me when you can't even walk?"

"Don't be ridiculous." He moved forward to prove her wrong.

Or at least he tried to.

But instead he found himself falling.

No.

No.

No.

"You can't save me like that."

He pushed himself up.

But instead of walking, all he could do was crawl.

"Don't."

He looked up, and his soul withered at the disgust in Sarica's gaze.

"If that's all you can do...you're better off dead."