Chapter 312: Help

CHAPTER 313

KATYA POV

“How do we get home, Katya?” The question hung between us.

Simple. Reasonable. Impossible. I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. Because I didn’t know.

For the first time since we’d escaped the club, I forced myself to stop thinking about the bodies.

Romeo and now the police. Instead, I tried to think practically. Home. How were we supposed to get home?

My thoughts spiraled immediately. Our phones were gone. My bag was still sitting somewhere inside Michael’s office.

So was Chiara’s. Our wallets. Money and Chiara’s car keys. Everything we’d brought with us tonight was trapped inside a club currently surrounded by police officers, firefighters, and paramedics.

There wasn’t a single chance they were letting anyone back inside. Not tonight. Maybe not for days.

My stomach twisted.

“We…” I swallowed. “We could walk?”

Even as the words left my mouth, I knew how ridiculous they sounded. Chiara stared at me.

“Walk?”

“…”

“Katya.” Her eyebrows climbed so high they nearly disappeared beneath her hair.

“Do you know how far we are from home?” I looked down. No. I didn’t.

Because Chiara had driven us here. I’d spent the entire journey staring out the window instead of paying attention to where we were going.

She let out a slow, defeated sigh. “We’d be walking until sunrise.” I closed my eyes briefly.

Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. Another police car sped past, lights flashing violently across the street.

The sound made both of us instinctively step farther away from the growing crowd gathering around the club.

My heart was still beating far too fast. Home. I wanted to go home. Not because I wanted my bed. Not because I wanted to sleep.

Because Nonna was there.

The thought hit me with surprising force.

Nonna. A fresh wave of guilt crashed over me.

Oh God. If she found out… I physically winced. She would kill us.

Not literally. Probably. But emotionally? Absolutely. She had trusted us. Trusted me!

She’d believed we were spending the evening together.

Safe. Instead… We had snuck into one of the most exclusive clubs in the city. A club that was now filling with smoke while police swarmed the streets outside.

I could already imagine the look on her face. The disappointment would somehow be worse than the shouting. My chest tightened. We had to get home.

Immediately. Before anyone called the house. Before the news spread.

Before— My thoughts stopped. A horrible realization settled over me. Nobody knew where we were. Not one person.

Except… My breathing faltered.

Romeo. The name surfaced inside my head before I could stop it.

The only one…..Movement across the street caught my attention. My eyes lifted automatically. A sleek black sedan had pulled quietly away from the curb farther down the road.

It looked expensive. The kind of car people didn’t stare at because they recognized the brand. They stared because it radiated money.

A man crossed in front of its headlights.

Tall.

Broad shoulders. Black suit. Even from this distance…

I knew. I recognized the way he walked.

Calm. Measured. Completely untouched by the chaos erupting less than a hundred metres away. He reached the drivers door and stepped inside without hesitation.

The door closed softly behind him. The engine roared. I simply watched.

Watching him leave felt…

Wrong.

As though something unfinished was slipping away. Beside me, Chiara suddenly inhaled sharply. Her head snapped toward the car.

Her eyes grew round.

“Oh my God.” I turned toward her. She wasn’t looking at me. She was staring directly at the black sedan. Then, before I could even think… She blurted it out.

“Don Romeo!”

I froze. My head whipped toward her so fast my neck hurt.

“What?” She pointed.

“There!”

“I see him.”

“No…” A horrible feeling settled into my stomach. I knew that look. I’d seen it before.

Usually seconds before Chiara suggested something completely insane.

Slowly… Very slowly… She turned toward me. There it was. That expression. Eyes sparkling. Brain working far too quickly.

Already forming an idea.

No. Absolutely not. I shook my head before she’d even opened her mouth.

“No.” Her lips parted anyway.

“No.”

“Katya—”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“I absolutely do.” She folded her arms.

“You don’t.”

“I really, really do.”

The corner of her mouth twitched.

“Fine.”

She paused dramatically.

“Fine.”

She paused dramatically.

“What am I going to say?”

I pointed toward the sleek black sedan.

“You’re going to tell me we should ask him for help.”

She let out an exaggerated sigh before pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Yes and please let me talk.” I frowned. She almost never pulled that tone with me.

“Katya…” she said more quietly, “we don’t have another choice.” I opened my mouth.

She cut me off immediately, stepping closer, lowering her voice as another police officer hurried past us.

“Listen to me.” Her expression had completely changed now.

The teasing. The sarcasm. The ridiculous confidence she’d carried all evening… It was gone.

“I know you two have…” She searched for the right word before giving up. “…whatever this thing is between you.”

I stared at her.

“I know you don’t trust him.”

I looked away. “I know he scares you.” My jaw tightened. “I know.” She nodded gently.

“I know all of it.”

A siren wailed somewhere behind us.

Neither of us looked back.

“But I’m sorry, Katya.” There was genuine regret in her voice now.

“We need to get home.” She glanced briefly toward the club entrance where more emergency vehicles were arriving.

“We can’t stay here.”

Another pause. “We can’t walk.”

Another. “We can’t call anyone.”

Another. “We can’t get into my car because my keys are upstairs.”

Her shoulders lifted helplessly. “And unless you’ve secretly learned how to teleport in the last five minutes…”

She gave me a tired smile. “…he’s our only option.” I hated how reasonable she sounded. Every sentence chipped away at another excuse.

I searched desperately for one. Any one.

“We could…” My voice faltered. “We could ask someone for a phone.”

Chiara nodded. “To call who?”

I froze.

“…”

“Our phones are inside.”

Silence.

“We don’t remember anybody’s numbers.”

Silence.

“We don’t even have money for a taxi.”

She wasn’t wrong. That somehow made everything worse. I hated being cornered by logic. I hated that every direction I turned led straight back to him.

Romeo. The very last person I wanted to owe anything. The image of him standing in that alley flashed through my mind again.

The bodies.

That damned cigarette.

Those cold grey eyes. My stomach clenched. I don’t think he would help us. “So?” I stared at the pavement.

At my shoes. At the tiny scratches in the concrete. Anywhere except the car. My pride screamed at me to walk away.

My fear begged me to do the same.

But another voice… Much quieter… Much more practical… Reminded me of Nonna. Of the fact that standing here solved absolutely nothing.

I let out another slow breath. “…I don’t think he’ll help us.” The admission came out softer than I’d intended.

Chiara’s expression softened.

“Maybe.” She slipped her hand into mine again. “But there’s only one way to find out.” I didn’t answer. Because despite everything… Despite how terrified Romeo made me…

Despite everything that had happened tonight… I knew she was right. Standing here changed nothing.

The worst he could do… Was refuse. He’d probably refuse.

Someone like Romeo didn’t strike me as the kind of man who stopped to rescue two girls who’d made a series of spectacularly terrible decisions.

If anything… He’d probably look at us once…

Say no…

And leave.

That thought strangely made agreeing easier. At least then we’d know. At least we would’ve tried. Chiara squeezed my hand once.

A silent question. I closed my eyes briefly.

Then gave the smallest nod. Chiara didn’t waste another second. Without another word, she turned toward the sleek black sedan parked beneath the streetlights and started walking.

I followed her.