Chapter 8 - The Voice in the WallWe stayed in the protected room for twenty-six minutes.
I counted every one.
Not because counting helped.
Because not counting meant thinking.
Emma sat in my lap, eyes heavy but too frightened to sleep. Every time a sound echoed through the walls, she jerked. I whispered stories into her hair about Mr. Rabbit’s birthday party, about pancakes stacked taller than houses, about a dragon who got scared of butterflies.
My voice shook through all of them.
The protected room had one old phone on the wall.
No dial pad.
Just a receiver and a red button.
I stared at it until my eyes hurt.
Finally, it rang.
One sharp buzz.
I nearly dropped Emma.
Nico’s voice came through when I answered.
“Sophia?”
“Yes.”
“Are you both okay?”
“Yes. Where is Mr. Moretti?”
A pause.
Too long.
“Nico.”
“He’s alive.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“He’s with me.”
I closed my eyes.
Thank God.
“What’s happening?”
“Luca and Valentina are inside the house.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“Valentina came back?”
“Yes.”
“For Emma?”
“We think so.”
I looked down at my daughter.
She was drawing circles on Mr. Rabbit’s stomach with one finger, pretending not to listen.
Nico continued.
“They’re trying to reach the archive level.”
“Why?”
Another pause.
“Nico.”
“There are files here. Old files. Things Luca needs destroyed.”
“What kind of files?”
“The kind men kill over.”
I laughed bitterly.
“That narrows it down in this house?”
“Fair.”
Behind his voice, I heard movement. A door. Someone speaking in Italian. Then Alessandro.
“Put her through.”
A second later, his voice replaced Nico’s.
“Sophia.”
I hated the relief I felt.
“You’re alive.”
“Yes.”
“Emma made you promise.”
“She is a frightening negotiator.”
Despite everything, my eyes burned.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
His answer came too quickly.
“You’re lying.”
“A little.”
I glanced at Emma.
She had stopped moving.
“How little?”
“Less than dramatic.”
“That is not a measurement.”
“It will do for now.”
The old phone crackled.
Then Alessandro’s tone changed.
“Listen to me carefully. There is a vent panel behind the bench in your room.”
I turned.
The bench was bolted to the wall, but behind it, near the floor, was a metal grate.
“I see it.”
“If I tell you, you may need to open it and crawl.”
My heart slammed.
“Crawl where?”
“Old laundry chute. It leads to a tunnel beneath the winter garden.”
“No.”
“Sophia.”
“No. I am not crawling through some dark tunnel with my three-year-old while armed people are in the house.”
“If Valentina reaches the archive, the protected room becomes a box.”
My mouth went dry.
Emma looked up.
“Mama?”
I forced my face calm.
“We’re okay.”
Alessandro’s voice lowered.
“I will not open that door unless I have to. But if I say the word sparrow, you move. No hesitation. No questions.”
“Sparrow?”
“My mother loved birds.”
That small detail landed strangely in the middle of all the fear.
His mother.
A woman who once loved birds before her son became a man enemies drugged into paralysis.
I swallowed.
“Okay.”
“Sophia.”
“Yes?”
“If the chute is too narrow for you both, send Emma first.”
“No.”
“Sophia—”
“No.”
“You can pull her from the other side.”
“I said no.”
A silence.
Then quietly, “You are stubborn.”
“My daughter is not going anywhere I can’t reach her.”
“Good.”
I heard something in his voice then.
Approval.
Maybe even admiration.
Then the line clicked.
A different sound entered the phone.
A woman breathing.
My blood chilled.
“Hello, Sophia.”
Valentina.
I went completely still.
“Sophia?” Alessandro’s voice snapped. “Hang up.”
Valentina laughed softly.
“Don’t be rude, Sandro. We haven’t even introduced ourselves properly.”
I pulled Emma closer and covered the receiver partly with my hand.
“Don’t listen, baby.”
Emma stared at me with wide eyes.
Valentina’s voice was honey over glass.
“I imagine you’re frightened. That’s understandable. You walked into a family matter.”
“You touched my child.”
A pause.
When Valentina answered, the sweetness was gone.
“Your child walked where she didn’t belong.”
“She is three.”
“Then you should have watched her.”
The words hit because they were true.
I felt shame rise like bile.
Then Alessandro’s voice cut through, furious.
“Do not speak to her.”
Valentina ignored him.
“You think he will protect you? You think because he let your little girl feed him a cookie, you matter?”
I said nothing.
My hand shook around the receiver.
Valentina continued.
“I know men like Alessandro better than you ever will. He collects loyalty the way other men collect watches. He will make you feel safe until your usefulness ends. Then you’ll be another employee with a severance envelope and a warning to stay quiet.”
I wanted to hang up.
I couldn’t.
Because beneath the cruelty, I heard something else.
Fear.
Valentina was talking because she needed time.
“Where are you?” I asked.
She laughed.
“Smarter than you look.”
“No,” I said. “Just less impressed than you hoped.”
The line went silent.
Alessandro made a low sound that might have been approval.
Valentina’s voice sharpened.
“You have no idea what he was before that chair.”
“I have a pretty good imagination.”
“He was going to burn this family to the ground.”
“He said he wanted clean businesses.”
“He wanted weakness.”
“Maybe you’re confusing the two.”
The silence that followed felt dangerous.
Then Valentina said, “Luca should have finished it on the road.”
Emma flinched.
I forgot to breathe.
The confession hung in the line.
Alessandro’s voice turned deadly calm.
“Thank you.”
Valentina sucked in a breath.
She realized too late.
The phone was recording.
Of course it was.
Every line in that house was probably recording.
“You think that matters?” she hissed.
“Yes,” Alessandro said.
“You think a recording saves you?”
“No.”
A distant boom shook the wall.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
Emma screamed.
The lights flickered.
Alessandro shouted something I could not understand.
Then his voice came back through, urgent and close.
“Sophia.”
My chest tightened.
“No.”
“Sparrow.”
The word sliced through me.
“No, no, no.”
“Sparrow,” he repeated. “Now.”
The line died.
For one frozen second, I stared at the receiver.
Then footsteps sounded outside the protected room door.
Slow.
Deliberate.
A woman’s voice sang softly through the steel.
“Emma?”
My daughter stopped breathing in my arms.
May you like
Valentina tapped on the door with one perfect nail.
“Sweetheart, I found your rabbit’s missing button.”
Related Stories
