“If we show ourselves, you’ll put her at risk,” Eric argues.
Angelo snaps. “Then put me in a fucking solitary cell and take her to the hospital. I didn’t betray my father for?—”
He switches to Italian. His voice grows raw, desperate. And I fade back out. It’s too hard to stay awake. Everything is too loud, too exhausting, and it takes too much effort just to open my eyes.
It all hurts. I don’t fight it. I slip under again. And then?—
I wake to luxury.
The soft lap of water against stone, the low hum of music, someone singing in the distance. A salty breeze brushes my skin. I frown. The last thing I remember was… arguing in Italian. Someone touching my head.
Eric. Angelo. A gun?
I blink hard, trying to force my thoughts into order. Hospital. I expect bright lights, sterile walls, the sharp, artificialsting of disinfectant. Instead, I find silk sheets.
A clay-red building with a balcony outside the window. Pale yellow walls.
And—
“What… what is?—”
The bed shifts beneath me. A warm weight presses against my side.
“Finally.”
I turn my head too fast, nausea rolling through me. Angelo is next to me, curled up with my damn cat. Starling chirps, rubbing her face against my shoulder, content.
“Where… what—” I can’t put my thoughts in order.
Angelo moves closer, setting Starling on my stomach so he can slide his arm under my head, his fingers stroking my cheek.
“Take it easy, little mouse.” His voice is low, soothing. “Severe concussion. You’re not at full thinking power yet.”
I blink up at him. “Angelo?” He presses a slow kiss to my temple. “I promised I’d stay alive, but I have a confession.”
My stomach tightens.
His eyes darken, but his touch stays gentle. Too gentle. “I broke another promise.”
A chill skates down my spine. My cat ishere. Angelo is here. We are not where we’re supposed to be.
“I had to kill for you, Luisa.”
The words drop like stones.
His fingers trace my jaw, slow, deliberate. “I knew you wouldn’t hold back if lethal mafia men came for me.”
His lips brush my forehead. “So I handled it first.”
I swallow, my throat thick, dry, unsure.
“Just the two, though.” His voice almost casual. “Everyone else lived. Eric. Emilia.”
His fingers slip into my hair, soothing.
“I even got your cat for you.”
Like that makes up for everything.
