Chapter 30: Until when?

Inside the apartment, the main living space was dimly lit. Elis was lying flat on his stomach on the sofa, completely absorbed in a game on his mobile phone.

When the sound of footsteps approached, Elia did not bother looking up from his screen. "Who is it?"

The icy expression on Marco’s face melted away instantly the moment his eyes fell on the boy. His gaze softened completely. Without making a sound, Marco walked over to the back of the sofa and suddenly threw his entire body weight over him.

"Hey!" Elia let out a muffled yell as his head slammed straight into the sofa cushion, his fingers slipping and sending his phone sliding onto the floor.

Marco wrapped his forearm loosely around Elia’s neck, pulling him into a mock headlock as if trying to choke him out. "Missed me, kiddo?"

Elia snapped his head to the side, his face contorting in frustration as a faint red flush crept up his cheeks in pure rage. He screeched at the top of his lungs, "Get off me, asshole!"

Marco chuckled and knocked his knuckles lightly against the top of Elia’s head twice before finally releasing his neck. But before Elia could escape, Marco grabbed both of his feet and yanked him across the cushions, forcing him to sit upright despite Elia kicking and protesting the entire time.

Once Elia was settled, Marco turned back toward Fabio, gesturing toward the empty spot on the couch. "Sit down."

Fabio obliged, walking over and taking a seat beside the annoyed younger brother.

Marco looked at Fabio and held up two fingers. "Give me two minutes."

Fabio gave a slight nod. Marco turned on his heel and gestured for Orso to follow him into the back room.

As the two left, Fabio leaned back against the sofa cushions, letting out a quiet breath. Just as he was about to drop into his own thoughts, a voice spoke up right next to him.

"It’s you, right?"

Fabio glanced sideways at the young man. Elia was staring at him with wide, curious eyes.

"You’re the guy who dropped my brother off the other day," Elia said, his voice dropping. "With the Porsche, isn’t it?"

There was an eager shine in Elia’s eyes, as if he were about to lean across the couch and cling to Fabio’s arm.

Fabio looked at him, slightly amused by the sudden shift in energy, and gave a slow nod. "Yeah."

Elia sat back, a massive smile spreading across his face. But then, as if realizing something, he turned abruptly back to Fabio with even more excitement. "Did you bring the car tonight? I mean, is it parked outside?"

Fabio nodded a second time. "Down the building."

Elia unconsciously bit his lower lip hard. Fabio raised his brow amused even more, as he knew this was a habit he was familiar with. Marco did the exact same thing whenever he was being cocky, annoying and even groaning. There was no mistaking it; they were definitely brothers.

Fabio tilted his head slightly, a small smirk playing on his lips. "You want a ride?"

Elia did not hesitate for a fraction of a second. "Can I?"

Fabio pulled the keys from his jacket pocket and raised them between his fingers, dangling them in front of the boy. "If your brother agrees... I’ll even let you drive."

Elia’s mouth went wide in shock, his eyes practical bugging out. But just as fast as his excitement had flared up, his smile dropped flat, replaced by a deep pout.

"He won’t agree," Elia grumbled, leaning back into the cushions with a huff. "He clearly hates it whenever I’m happy."

Fabio let out a low, amused chuckle.

"I don’t even have to ask him anyway," Elia added crossly, crossing his arms over his chest. "I’m not a kid."

Fabio pursed his lips to hide his smile. "Unless you want him to kill us both, you’d better ask. He has quite a temper. I bet you know that better than anyone."

Elia let out a dramatic sigh, throwing his head back against the sofa. "God, such a mood killer he is."

Meanwhile, inside the small back room, the mood was suffocatingly tense.

Marco was pacing back and forth his arms crossed tightly against his chest.

"The house is gone," Marco said, his voice low, sharp, and laced with suppressed fury. "They burned it. They aren’t just sending warnings anymore, Orso. They are seriously coming after us now. If we stay here, he’s going to..."

Orso stood near the small desk in the corner, remaining completely silent for a long moment as he weighed the reality of their situation. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully before finally raising his head.

"We should leave," Orso said calmly. "Tonight, if possible."

Marco nodded in immediate agreement.

Orso hesitated, his dark eyes shifting slightly toward the closed door. "Elia... he isn’t going to want to move again."

Marco closed his eyes hard, squeezing the bridge of his nose as frustration flooded his face. "It doesn’t matter what he wants right now. I’ll drag his ass down the stairs and shove him in the trunk if I have to."

For a brief second, Orso’s stern, hardened face softened, an exceptionally rare look of gentleness appearing in his eyes as he a certain image of a super annoying young man crossed his mind. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, leaving behind his usual cold demeanor.

"I’ll talk to him," Orso said quietly, stepping toward the door. "He might listen."

"Wait," Marco spoke up before Orso could turn the handle.

Orso stopped and looked back. "What?"

"I’ve been thinking about where we need to go," Marco said slowly. He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in the room before he continued. "I had not fully made up my mind until tonight. Given how fast things are falling apart... we might just need to go with this option."

"Where?" Orso asked.

"Sicily," Marco answered bluntly. "We move to Sicily."

Orso’s eyes widened in genuine shock for a brief second, his breath catching in his throat. "Sicily? It’s far more dangerous for us there."

Marco’s gaze turned sharp, cold, and entirely calculative. He walked over to the glass window, looking out into the dark night with his hands tucked into his pockets.

"It’s dangerous, yes," Marco said, his tone icy and resolute. "But they will think twice before chasing us onto that turf."

"But—"

"I know it’s risky," Marco interrupted, turning his head slightly to glare at Orso over his shoulder. "I know exactly what we’re walking into. But it is the only safer choice we have right now. For now... we go to Sicily."

Orso stared at Marco for several long seconds, searching his face for any sign of doubt. Finding none, Orso let out a long, heavy sigh.

"Okay," Orso conceded softly. "Sicily it is."

Orso turned the door handle and walked out of the room, heading back to the living area to handle Elia.

Marco remained standing alone in the dark room. He stared out the glass window, watching the dark street below as his eyes narrowed into razor-thin slits. He raised his hand, curling his fingers into a tight, white-knuckled fist at his side.

He closed his eyes hard, leaning his head against the cold glass, and whispered a single, dark question into the silence of the room.

"Until when?"