I watch Marina fold a shirt with her left hand. "What happened with Dante?"
Her whole body goes rigid. "What about him?"
"He never told Lorenzo anything about the day you woke up. Just said you were okay and left it at that."
Marina's laugh is bitter. "Okay. Right."
"Marina—"
"I told him to leave." She shoves the shirt into a box with unnecessary force. "To get out and never come back. Not to the hospital, not to my life, not anywhere near me."
"He saved your life," I say carefully.
"I didn't ask him to!" The words explode out of her. She stands abruptly, pacing with sharp, angry steps. "I didn't ask him to carry me to that car while I was bleeding out. I didn't ask him to stay."
I stay quiet, letting her rage build.
"My mother told me everything." Marina's voice cracks with fury. "He never left. Day and night, sitting in that uncomfortable hospital chair like some kind of— like he had the right to be there. Only leaving to change his clothes, barely eating. The nurses thought he was my boyfriend. Can you believe that?"
She whirls to face me, anger forming her features.
"I hate him." The words come out low and vicious. "I hate him more than before. More than when he kidnapped me that first time. More than when he manhandled me like I was nothing."
"Why?" I ask, though I think I already know.
"Because people like him don't get to do that." Her voice rises again. "They don't get to show up and act like they care. They don't get to sit vigil at hospital beds and look destroyed when someone's hurt. They don't get to be human."
She's crying now, angry tears streaming down her face.
"He's a killer, Sophia. A criminal. He probably shot people that same week. He definitely hurt people. And then he sits there holding my hand like he's capable of gentleness? Like he's capable of caring about someone like me?"
I think about Lorenzo, the way he held me in that hospital bed, the tears in his eyes when I woke up. The same man who beat Daniil to death with his bare hands. The same hands that stroke my hair at night when nightmares wake me. I asked how Daniil died and Lorenzo told me like he was talking about our next meal.
But I don't say any of this. It's irrelevant now.
"They're not supposed to be complicated," Marina continues, wiping her face roughly with her left hand. "They're supposed to be monsters or heroes. Not both. Not... this."
I understand exactly what she means. The confusion of seeing humanity in someone who does inhuman things. The way it breaks your brain, trying to reconcile the gentle touches with the violence.
"Did he say anything?" I ask. "When you told him to leave?"
Marina's face crumples. "No. He just... looked at me. Like I'd shot him. Then he stood up and walked out. Haven't seen him since."
"Good," I say, though the word feels hollow.
"Yeah." She turns back to her packing, movements jerky. "Good."
We work in silence for a few minutes, me helping her fold clothes while she sorts through drawers. The apartment feels haunted, like violence has seeped into the walls.
"I need normal, Sophia," Marina finally says. "I need to pretend this never happened. That your world never touched mine."
"I know."
"I can't know about that life anymore. I can't wonder if every person who looks at me wrong is connected to some crime family. I can't think about what Dante's doing or whether—" She cuts herself off. "I just can't."
Lorenzo
She comes down the stairs with tears streaming down her face, and I catch her before she collapses. Her body shakes against mine as I pull her into my chest.
