Chapter 30 Into the Shadows of Sicily“:
Chapter jo: Into the Shadows of Sidly
The won eyed tabel with a steel paze as they left the cotle shop. “Est, we ditch your car,”
shesaid flatly, giving a nod toward the sleek Camara.
tabel hesitated but followed het, closity onwelching caution. The woman climbed to the passenger seat and gave her precise directions, guiding them through winding streets. As they are, the city’s glimmering lights began to fade, and with each men, bel noticed a subtle shift. The somery gra bleaker, the buildings shorter, the streets narrower, and the atmosphere header
The neighborhoods around them became visibly less lavish, each one seeming poorer than the last. Enlilings were cracked and crumbing, their facades marked by graffiti, beken windows hidden behind rusted bars. People loitered in alleyways, their eyes hard and their expressions wary. The scent of the seamingled with the stench of neglect, a stark contrast to the polished air of the more affluent parts of Skil.
kabel gripped the wheel, her mind racing. She’d always imagined Sicily as a lund of beauty and history, but this side of the city was different. It felt forgotten, abandoned by time and progress.
They finally stopped near a dilapidated lot scattered with broken bottles and cigarette butts. From here, we walk,” the woman instructed, climbing out. “Driving any farther in a car like this is asking for troublk.”
Isabel nodded, pocketing the car keys as she followed. She left the Camaro bidden behind a row of dumpsters, hoping it would blend in well enough until they returned. With each step, she felt her heart thud louder, a mixture of lieve and determination.
The woman led her through narrow alleys and twisted paths, each darker and quieter than the last, Isabel glanced around, noting the dirt–caked bricks, the frayed clothes of people passing by, and the haunted looks that seemed to follow them. She could feel the weight of their gazes but kept her eyes forward, focused on the woman leading her.
“Where exactly are we going?” she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
The women threw her a glance but kept moving, her pace brisk. “You’ll see soon enough.”
They walked in silence for a few more minutes before stopping in front of a shabby, nondescript building. The paint was peeling, and the windows were clouded with grime. The woman produced a key from her pocket and unlocked a heavy padlock, pushing open the door to reveal a dimly lit interior.
“Get in,” she instructed, gesturing for Isabel to follow. They entered, and the woman led her down a narrow staircase. The scent of dampness filled the air, and each step echoed ominoush.
Isabel’s nerves prickled with uncase, and she finally spoke up again. “Are you sure this is safe?”
The woman chuckled, the sound harsh and dry. “Sade? Nothing here is safe, especially not for people like you.”
The staircase led to a small, poorly lit room cluttered with bores and a single bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Without a word, the woman moved to a comer, unbuttoning her cost and peeling it off, revealing a rough, worn outfitunderneath. She reached into a box, pulling out a scarf, which she used to tie her hair back.
As she worked, she glanced at Isabel with a smirk. “So, what’s a pretty damsel like you looking for in the clubhouse?”
bubelprised, ensure how much to reveal “It’s personal”
The woman raised an eyebrow, ging her a skeptical look. “Personal? Look around. This isn’t the part of Sicily for personal matters. This is the part that will chew you up and spit
you bLL”
Isabel felt a pang of detensiveness. “Then why do people stay here?
At this, the woman’s expression hardened, her eyes narrowing with anger. “Do you think people choose to live here?” she snapped, her voice low and fierce. “We don’t live here by choice. We live here because we have no chake. We’re pushed aside, forgotten by those who keep the upper part of Sicily nice and clean.”
babel absorbed her words, a chill settling over her. She had read about these kinds of places, about people marginalized and forced into lives they hadn’t chosen. But seeing it firsthand made it painfully real
The woman continued, her voice hitter. “People ask questions. They try to rally for change. But nothing ever comes of it. Those who push too hard.. they disappear. The system here doesn’t tolerate rebellion.”
trabel’s mind raced, piecing together what she’d seen and heard. The bleakness of this place, the hopelessness of its people—it all seemed to circle back to the powers that poverned Sicily’s underworld. And in the center of it all, she couldn’t shake the thought of Matted.
“Where is the clubhouse?” she asked, her voice steady. “And what does it have to do with all this?”
The woman gave a drychuckle, her game cold. “The Clubhouse has everything to do with everything here,” she replied cryptically. “But you can’t just stroll in like this. You’d stick out like a sore thumb, and if anyone figured out you were from the top side, you wouldn’t make it out alive. Not even with the big man protecting you
Isabel’s heart raced, the weight of her words sinking in “Who’s the big man?”
The woman’s eyes gleamed with a dark knowing. “The top three call the shots around here. But there’s one who holds the reps tighter than the rest–Matteo Ricci. He controls the upper side and keeps it nice and polished for folks like you.”
The revelation bit Isabel bike a punch to the gut. She’d suspected Matteo’s involvement, but hearing it confirmed added a layer of gravity she hadn’t anticipated.
The woman’s voice broke her thoughts “You have someone powerful backing you, don’t you? A little damsel like you wouldn’t come poking around here unless someone was watching your back.”
Isabel swallowed, unsure how to respond. But before she could form an answer, aloud knock sounded from the door above. Her heart stopped, and she turned to see the woitian’s
“Hide,” the woman whispered urgently, pointing to a dark comer. Isabel hesitated, panic surging in her veins, but she moved quickly, crouching behind a stack of crates just as a
voicebarked from outside.
*Open up!“The voice was rough and demanding, and isabel felt her blood run culd.
The woman glanced at her hiding spot, her expressions unreadable. “Stay quiet. Don’t move a muscle,” she mouthed, then turned toward the door, her footsteps echoing in the small space
Habel held her breath, her mind racing as she pressed herself against the wall.
