They tried to kill me.
They tried to kill Alessandro.
They tried to turn me into a traitor then murder me for it.
“Bianca?” A voice cuts through the red haze of fury. Female, concerned, familiar. “Can you hear me?”
I try to open my eyes, but the fluorescent lights above me are like knives stabbing into my brain.
Everything is too bright, too loud, too much. The steady beeping of machines, the antiseptic smell, the rough texture of hospital sheets against my skin—it all crashes over me at once.
“Where—” My voice comes out as a croak, my throat raw and scratchy like I’ve been screaming.
Maybe I have been.
I clear my throat. “Where’s Alessandro?”
“He’s okay.” Bella’s face swims into focus above me, her hazel eyes bright with tears. “He’s in surgery, but the doctors say he’s going to be fine. He has two cracked ribs and a concussion and a bullet punctured his lung, but they got it out.”
Surgery.
He neededsurgerybecause of what Dominic did to us.
The rage flares brighter, and I have to grip the bed rails to keep from launching myself upright despite the IV lines and monitors.
Kill them all,Giuseppe’s voice snarls in my head, so loud and vicious that I flinch.Hunt down every last Calabrese and paint the streets with their blood.
This was planned,Sophia’s voice whispers, colder and more calculating.This wasn’t just a trial. This was revenge. Use that.
Think,Matteo’s voice reappears, cutting through Giuseppe and Sophia’s voices.Analyze the situation. What did they really accomplish?
“The witness,” I rasp, trying to push through the chaos in my head. “Dr. Schuyler. Is she?—?”
“Alive,” Bella says, leaning forward to grasp my hand. Her touch is warm, smooth, and comforting. “Barely. She’s in intensive care, but she’s alive. Thanks to you.”
Relief floods through me, but it does nothing to cool the inferno of rage burning in my chest.
We saved her.
We completed the mission.
We did what they asked us to do, and they tried tomurderus for it.
Of course they did,Sophia hisses.They never intended for you to succeed. This was always about eliminating you.
“Where’s Da—Matteo?” I ask, because I need to see him.
I need to tell him what I’ve figured out, and what I’m going to do about it.
“Right here, sweetheart.”
His voice comes from the doorway, and when I turn my head to look at him, what I see makes the heart monitor chirp.
I’ve seen Matteo angry before. I’ve seen him cold, calculating, dangerous.
I’ve seen him make decisions that cost people their lives without batting an eye.
But I’ve never seen him likethis.
