Call

"Have a good night, my friend." He hung up, but his laughter lingered in my mind for a few moments. "Damn son of a bitch!"

"Who was that, Marco?" My brother closed the door and approached me.

"Benjamin Costas."

"What did he want?"

"To remind me how fragile our relationship with the Barbosas is, especially now that Lais left me at the altar."

"What a jerk!"

"They're after Lais, and they're going to kill her."

"He said that?" My brother's green eyes widened in shock.

"Not directly, but he emphasized how advantageous it would be for them to do business without her. He even offered me an obedient wife. If they eliminate Lais, they could take the port and ally with us."

"But we don't have much to lose. We could still smuggle our contraband through Portugal."

"Just our reputation and a deal we made ten years ago."

"And what do you plan to do?"

"Get that idiot before the Costas put a bullet in her head."

"I hope we're the first to find her."

"For the girl's sake, I hope so." I scratched my chin thoughtfully.

I was furious, and my first instinct was to let the Costas take care of her. It would be one less problem for me, but I'd have to wait for a bloody war to break out in Portugal to regain access to the port. That could harm my business, but not for long. However, there was honor among criminals. I couldn't simply walk away from a ten-year contract without expecting the same fate to come back to me one day. We were the strongest link in this chain, but for it to continue, I had to rely on my allies.

"Are we going to the club? You could distract yourself with one of the dancers..."

"I'm not in the mood for that today," I interrupted my brother.

"Alright, I'll leave you alone. If you need me..."

"I'll call."

Mateo nodded and left my office. I walked to the window, placing my open hands on the glass as I gazed at the fountain and the garden in the central courtyard of the mansion.

I already had enough problems to deal with, but I had to rush to find the runaway bride before that foolish girl was captured and killed by a rival family. I hated having a weakness, but Lais had become mine even before we were married.

**LAIS'S POINT OF VIEW**

I lay on the bed, feeling the gentle rays of the sun streaming through the hotel room window. Despite all my misadventures, I had slept better than ever. I felt refreshed.

"Good morning, sunshine!" I got up from the bed and opened the window, taking a deep breath of the morning fragrance. It was accompanied by the scent of a nearby bakery. I figured there must be one not too far away. With the money I got from selling the ring, I could treat myself to a nice breakfast.

I headed to the well-ventilated and brightly lit bathroom. I splashed water on my face and looked at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were sunken, and my hair was quite messy. A good night's sleep wouldn't erase the chaos of the past week, but it was a start.

I tied my hair back with an elastic band that had held two soaps together and rinsed my mouth with just water. I would also need to buy a toothbrush and some new clothes.

I knew a lot about history, especially about Italy and Christianity, as well as other information I had learned at the convent. I thought I might be able to find a job with that knowledge, since the money from the jewelry wouldn't last long and I would need more.

"She's in there." The silence was broken by a voice in the hallway.

"She arrived yesterday and has no papers. I saw she had a lot of money, so I thought she might be a runaway from the police." The female voice reminded me of the receptionist who had checked me in the night before. Had she called the police on me?

I couldn't afford to be arrested; I couldn't explain what I was going through, and I would surely end up back in the hands of those I was trying to escape.

"Miss!" A male voice knocked on the door.

I didn't respond. I grabbed the bag from the nightstand and ran to the window. I was on the second floor and didn't know if I could jump without seriously injuring myself, but I had no other choice. 

Facing the street, I climbed onto the windowsill. Below, the street was relatively busy, and I saw a truck approaching in the distance. I hoped I timed the jump right, as I flinched when I heard the door open. There was a high risk I'd crash to the ground and be run over by the vehicle.

I closed my eyes and felt the impact. My hands hit the metal surface of the truck. My stinging palms indicated they had absorbed much of the impact, and my arms and shoulders felt numb. I turned my head and saw the police, along with the receptionist, appearing from the window of the room I had just escaped. They shot me a dark look but didn't take the risk of pursuing me. I imagined the leap I had taken was reckless.

I tried to get up, but the vehicle started moving, and I struggled to regain my balance. It had been hard enough to land on the truck; getting off would be even more difficult. I clung to the metal grooves, trying not to roll off, and attempted to let myself be carried away by this makeshift transport. It turned corner after corner, but soon I began to hear the sound of police sirens. They were after me; I didn't need to be a genius to realize that.

I was already on the run from the mafia; I didn't need trouble with the police as well. However, I found it highly unlikely that simply talking to them would help. I had no papers; I was nobody. They would take me somewhere or lock me up until they checked my history, and it would only be a matter of time before those I had fled would find me.