I’m Adora goddamn Montoni.
I still have to deliver on my impossible promise to Dashamir, but right now I feel powerful, and I like it.
They bring Vincenzo to me in a small room off the main hallway. He’s barely conscious, supported between two guards who dump him unceremoniously into my arms.
He looks half dead, and the horror of what’s happened to him crashes over me
“Vincenzo.” I struggle beneath his weight as I try to rouse him. “Vincenzo, can you hear me?”
His eyes flutter open. They’re confused at first, then focus on my face. “Adora?” His voice is a rasp. “What are you… How are you here?”
“I came to get you.” Tears are streaming down my face now. I can’t stop them. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
“You shouldn’t be here.” He tries to stand up straight but winces in pain. “It’s not safe. Dashamir…”
“It’s all right. I made a deal, and I’m getting you out of here. Matteo’s outside.”
His damaged hand finds my face despite the pain it must cause him. “You came for me.”
“Always,” I whisper, his bloody fingers becoming wet from my tears. Dashamir ripped bits off him, but he’s alive, and the relief is immense.
But the relief only lasts a heartbeat. I still have to tell him about the poison, and I have to somehow extract a murder confession from a man who’s never admitted to anything in his life.
I just promised Dashamir the impossible.
Later. I’ll face all of that later.
Right now, I just need to get Vincenzo home.
12
Vincenzo
Everything hurts.
That’s the first thing I’m aware of when consciousness tries to drag me back. Pain, sharp and dull and throbbing all at once. My ribs. My face. My hands. Fuck, my hands.
I try to remember where I am. What happened. But my thoughts slip away like water through my damaged fingers.
Voices drift through the fog. Soft and worried.
“…should take him to a hospital…”
“…can’t…questions…”
“…fever’s getting worse…”
Adora? And is that Sofia?
I try to open my eyes, but the effort is too much. I sink back down into the dark.
Time passes. I don’t know how much. I’m hot. Too hot. The sheets stick to my skin, and I try to push them away, but my hands flare with pain and won’t work right. Something cool touches my forehead. A cloth, damp and soothing.
“It’s okay,” a voice whispers. “You’re safe.”
Adora.
That’s Adora’s voice.
