I swallow hard. “Go on.”
Lorenzo leans his head back against the couch, eyes on the ceiling.
“There were more of them than there should have been,” he says. “That was my first clue. Second clue was when one of them smiled at me like he was envisioning gutting me . . . spoiler alert, he was.”
My stomach is in knots.
Lorenzo takes a sip, then sets the glass down again.
“They came at me fast,” he continues. “Not amateurs. Not drunk idiots. These were men trained to hurt someone and keep them alive just long enough so that they could enjoy it.”
My throat tightens. “Lorenzo—”
His gaze snaps to me, eyes bright with something dark. “It gets worse, Little Bird. Don’t interrupt the show.”
Heat flickers under my skin at the nickname, even now, even here.
I hate it.
Oh, who am I kidding . . . no, I don’t.
Lorenzo’s hand lifts, palm facing up. “I managed to put two of them down,” he says, voice almost bored. “One tried to take my gun. That was . . . impolite.”
“Did you—” I stop myself because I don’t want details. I don’t want images in my head.
Lorenzo’s mouth curves. “Yes, Victoria. I did. Turns out, I’m a violent man. I know, shocking development.”
I glare at him. “I’m trying not to picture it.”
He leans closer a fraction, eyes narrowing. “Then stop asking questions you don’t want me to answer.”
“Fine. I won’t,” I say before clamping my mouth shut.
“One of them caught my arm,” he says. “Blade.”
My stomach turns.
Lorenzo lifts his scarred forearm slightly, fingers tracing the jagged line. “Went deep,” he mumbles. “I remember thinking . . . that’s a lot of blood. They stabbed me a few more times before leaving me to bleed out and die.”
My breath catches, and I hate that my eyes sting.
Lorenzo notices immediately. His gaze flicks up, sharp.
“Don’t,” he warns, voice quiet. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I whisper, my voice rough.
“Like I’m human,” he replies, the words bitter.
I swallow hard. “You are.”
Lorenzo’s laugh is low and unpleasant. “That’s generous.”
I lean forward slightly, hands gripping each other tighter. “How did you survive?”
He shrugs. “I didn’t feel like dying.”
“That’s not—”
