Chapter 128
KATYA POV
We reached Nonna’s room in tense silence. The mont I pushed her inside, she motioned impatiently toward the nightstand.
"My phone. Bring it."
I moved quickly, scanning the table until I spotted the sleek device resting beside a stack of neatly folded handkerchiefs.
The phone felt strange in my hands—cold, smooth, unfamiliar. I didn’t own one. I barely touched electronics unless soone shoved them at .
The glowing screen lit up, and my eyes stuck to it... fascinated. The colors, the reflections—like holding sothing alive.
"Katya," Nonna called softly, pulling back to reality. "Oh—right." I stepped closer and placed the phone in her waiting hand.
Nonna unlocked it with practiced ease, her fingers surprisingly quick as she scrolled through her contacts.
"Il mio piccolo combinaguai —My littte troublemaker."
Nonna pressed the call button and brought the phone to her ear. The room fell painfully quiet.
I watched her face—the way her eyebrows lifted slightly as she listened, the faint wrinkle forming between them.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
Nothing.Nonna’s frown deepened. She lowered the phone, glanced down at the screen, then tried again.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Still nothing.
She pulled the phone away from her ear with a sharp breath. Her lips pressed into a thin line.
"He isn’t picking," she murmured, more to herself than to . My fingers curled nervously around the back of her wheelchair.
"Maybe he’s... maybe the phone is on silent?" I offered weakly. "Try again." Nonna sighed, frustration tightening her features, but she pressed redial anyway.
The room filled with the soft, repetitive ringing.I held my breath as I counted again.
One ring.
Two.
Three. Of course he wouldn’t pick up. Roo never did anything the normal way. I waited for the call to drop again.
Click. Nonna straightened instantly.
He picked up. But before either of us could speak.....
BANG—BANG—BANG!
Gunshots. Loud. Sharp. Too close to the phone. My heart stopped. Nonna’s eyes snapped toward , wide with worry, her breath catching as she clutched the phone tighter.
"Roo?! Roo, rispondi! Dove sei?!-—. Roo?! Roo, answer ! Where are you?!" Nonna threw words in their native language. The only words I understood was Roos na.
Another burst of gunfire cracked through the speaker with muffled yelling, sothing crashing...
"What do you need, old hag?" A loud, sarcastic voice finally answered, followed by heavy breathing.
I blinked. The unusual panic that was about to set in vanished. What kind of greeting was that?
Nonna gasped, scandalized. "Old hag?!" she sputtered. But Roo didn’t replied.
The sound of rapid movent and muffled shouts thudded behind him. The gunfire wasn’t as loud now—further away, maybe—but still close enough to make my stomach twist.
Was he... laughing? Or was that just how out of breath he was?
"Roo!" Nonna snapped, the pure grandmotherly scolding tone bursting through her panic.
"Is this how you answer your phone?! Che mancanza di rispetto! —what disrespect! Where are you?! What is happening over there?!"
More noise on his end—sothing scraped, like he was ducking or shifting.
I stared at the phone. This... this was not the kind of morning I ever wanted to be part of.
And of course, Roo greeted his grandmother like that. Because why act normal when you can behave like a walking disaster?
"Dove sei?! Cosa sta succedendo là?! Non dirmi che ti sei buttato in un’altra stupidaggine adesso che puoi camminare!"
Where are you?! What is happening over there?! Don’t tell you threw yourself into trouble the minute you could stand!
Her words tumbled out so fast I couldn’t keep up. I only recognized "sei" and "Roo." I had no knowledge of what she’s saying anymore as she thinks its the best ti to speak in their native language.
Roo answered her in short, clipped replies, also in Italian. One or two words at a ti.
Annoyed. Breathless. Distracted.
It sounded like he was barely paying attention to her... or like he was doing sothing else at the sa ti.
Nonna leaned forward in her wheelchair, gripping her phone like she could pull him out of the speaker by force.
"Rispondi bene, ragazzo! Dove ti trovi?!"
Answer properly, boy! Where are you?! Another short reply from Roo. Still not a complete sentence.
Nonna’s face pinched with even more worry, the hand holding the phone trembling.
I felt useless. Completely useless. I didn’t understand a word, and every second of Nonna’s frantic Italian made my stomach feel heavier.
I wasn’t scared for Roo—i could keep lieing to myself—but I was scared of there were selling out.
They could because I got no lock of what the fuck is been said.
A startled grunt ca through the speaker on Roo’s end, followed by him muttering a harsh, "rda..." under his breath.
Nonna gasped. "Roo?! Che succede?!"
Roo?! What’s happening?!
"Ugh—vecchia! Vedi cosa hai causato?! Torno tra cinque ore, massimo. Ciao."
Ugh—old woman! See what you caused?! I’ll be back in five hours, max. Bye. Roo suddenly snapped.
And before Nonna could answer—
Click.
The call ended.
Nonna froze. Just... froze. Eyes wide. Mouth slightly open. I stood there, unsure if I should speak or wait or keep mute.
Finally, Nonna lowered the phone onto her lap, exhaling slowly, like she was trying to push the worry out of her chest.
But it didn’t leave her face. Not even a little. Nonna stayed frozen for a long second, staring at the dark screen like it might light up again if she willed it hard enough.
Her fingers curled slowly around the phone. She swallowed, once, deeply, like she was forcing her heartbeat back under control.
The silence stretched heavily. I shifted on my feet, opening my mouth honestly, I wasn’t even sure what I was about to say. "Um... Nonna, do you....."
She lifted a hand gently, stopping before a single full word could escape. "Katya," she said quietly, but her voice had that soft finality.
"Cara, I... I would like to be alone for a mont."
She wasn’t angry at . She wasn’t cold. I tried telling myself. She’s not shutting out. She’s.....Just... worried. Deeply worried. And trying not to show it.
I nodded quickly. "Of course. I’ll be right outside if you...."
"Yes, yes," she breathed, not unkindly. Her gaze drifted away from , unfocused, as if she was already sowhere else—following her grandson into whatever chaos he’d thrown himself into.
I took a few steps back, then quietly slipped toward the door. As I pulled it closed behind , I heard her exhale again.
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