The man in the chair has passed out, blood dripping steadily onto the concrete.
"You need to calm down," Alessio says. "You're going to make mistakes if you keep pushing like this."
He's trying to hide it, but I know him too well.
"You're just as unsettled as I am," I say.
"Of course I am. Lucrezia is like a sister to me too." he says, and I know it's true.
"Go home," he says after a moment. "Get some rest. Shower. Eat something that isn't coffee or scotch. I'll handle things here."
A bitter laugh escapes my throat, sounding harsh even to my own ears. "Rest? You think I can fucking rest?"
"You haven't slept in days. You're no good to them like this."
"Every time I close my eyes," I say, my voice barely audible, "I see them. Both of them. Dead, like Bianca."
Alessio steps closer, lowering his voice. "We will find them. But not if you work yourself to death first."
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Istare at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above Scarlett's guest bed, my hand resting on my still-flat stomach. Three days have passed since we confirmed what I'd been trying to deny. I'm carrying Damiano's child.
My child.
Lucrezia sleeps on the pullout couch in the living room. Her loyalty to me over her brother still baffles me.
Morning light filters through the blinds, casting striped shadows across the bedspread. I haven't slept more than a few hours at a time, my mind churning with impossible choices.
I can't stay hidden forever. Scarlett'sapartment isn't safe long-term, not with both Byron and Damiano hunting for me. And Lucrezia deserves to go home, even if she insists otherwise.
But the thought of facing Damiano again makes my heart pound. When I close my eyes, I still see the fury and betrayal on his face in that office. The way he looked at me like I was nothing but a liar.
I press my palms against my eyes. "What am I supposed to do?" I whisper to the empty room.
This baby changes everything.
I sit up slowly, fighting a wave of nausea. I refuse to use this pregnancy as a manipulation tactic. This baby isn't a bargaining chip or a way to make Damiano feel sorry for me.
But this child deserves the truth. And so does Damiano, regardless of what he's done.
The door creaks open, and Lucrezia peeks in, her dark hair tousled from sleep.
"You're thinking too loud," she says, leaning against the doorframe. "I can hear you from the living room."
I manage a weak smile. "Sorry."
She crosses the room and sits beside me on the bed. "You've made a decision, haven't you?"
"I have to talk to him," I say, my voice steadier than I expected. "Just once. I need to tell him everything I know about that night—about what Byron told me, about my father. He deserves to hear it from me."
"And the baby?" Lucrezia asks softly.
I shake my head. "Not yet. I need him to listen to me first, to believe me because of the truth, not because I'm pregnant."
Lucrezia takes my hand, her fingers warm against mine. "He might not listen."
"I know." The reality of what I'm proposing settles heavy in my chest. "But I have to try. For all of us."
