The windows rolled down in unison. Two faces appeared, two mouths already forming the shape of explanations that would not come. They looked at each other across the narrow distance, caught in the absurdity of their own cruelty, and found no suitable excuse between them.
I spared them the effort.
"It's fine." My voice was even. Colorless. "I'll drive myself."
Relief flooded both their faces so quickly it was almost comical. A breath released. Shoulders dropping. The tension dissolving like sugar in hot espresso. But beneath the relief, I caught the flicker of something else. Confusion. A dim awareness that the woman standing before them was not behaving the way she was supposed to. That the script had changed, and they had not been given the new pages.
"Seraphina..." Giancarlo began, leaning out of his window, one arm draped over the door.
I pressed the button on my own car's remote. The locks clicked open. I slid behind the wheel, pulled the door shut, and raised the window before his voice could reach me. I had no interest in hearing another beautifully constructed lie. Not today. Not ever again.
The convoy pulled out of the garage and into the streets of Riviera City.
I followed at a distance, watching their taillights weave through traffic. The city unfolded around me like a map of everything I was about to lose. The old stone buildings with their wrought-iron balconies. The narrow alleys where laundry still hung between windows like white flags of surrender. The waterfront promenade where the fishing boats rocked against their moorings and the salt air carried the faint, sweet rot of the sea.
The three of us had grown up here together. Blood-promised since we were old enough to understand the word. From the time we could walk, Giancarlo and Salvatore had trailed after me through these streets, pulling my braids, fighting each other for the right to carry my schoolbag, swearing with the grave sincerity of children that they would marry me when we were grown. That they would protect me. That nothing in this world or the next would ever touch me while they lived.
And then my parents were killed.