“I know.” I close my eyes, breathing him in. “After I talk to my father tonight, we’ll be one step closer to ending this.”
“And if something goes wrong? If he suspects you’re on my side anyway?”
“Then we’ll deal with it.” I pull back to look at him. “Together. No more fighting alone.”
He cups my face with his damaged hands, studying me like he’s trying to memorize every detail.
“You’re the bravest person I’ve ever known,” he says softly. “And I’m so fucking scared for you.”
“I’m scared too.” I manage a small smile. “But I’m more scared of losing you and Dashamir making good on his threat.”
Sofia returns with a tackle box full of makeup and a small first aid kit. She sets everything on the bedside table with practiced efficiency.
“Adora, in the chair. Face the light.”
I do as she says, settling into the chair and angling myself toward the lamp. My heart is pounding, but my hands are steady.
Sofia opens the makeup kit and pulls out many shades of purple, blue, and red. “The key is layering. Making it look like the bruise has had time to develop.”
“How do you know all this?” I ask.
“Matteo wanted to be a zombie for Halloween when he was twelve. I spent hours researching how to make realistic injuries.” A sad smile crosses her face. “Never thought I’d be using those skills like this.”
She starts working, her touch gentle but sure. Dabbing color onto the left side of my lower lip and chin. Blending. Addingshadow and depth. “Watch carefully in the mirror what I’m doing. You’ll have to touch this up tomorrow and the day after.”
I watch Sofia apply the makeup, studying her technique. “I won’t have to touch it up too much. I’ll apply my makeup extra thick to make it seem like I’ve covered the bruise, like I always used to do when he hit me.”
Beside me, Vincenzo’s face shifts in rage. A muscle in his jaw flexes as he hears me speak of hiding bruises that my father gave me.
“You’re doing well,” Sofia murmurs. “Stay still. Just a bit more.”
She works in silence for several minutes, occasionally stepping back to assess her work. Finally, she nods.
“What do you think? Tell me if it’s believable.”
I stand and cross to the mirror above the dresser.
The woman staring back at me has a purple-black bruise spreading across the left side of her chin. The center is dark with broken blood vessels. The edges are an angry red. It looks absolutely real.
“It’s perfect.”
“Now for the cut.” Sofia picks up a small, thin blade from the first aid kit. She holds it over a lighter flame, sterilizing it. “This will hurt. But only for a moment. Are you ready?”
I look at Vincenzo. He’s rigid with tension.
“I’m ready,” I tell Sofia.
“Sit down. Tilt your head back slightly.”
I do. Sofia positions herself in front of me, the blade catching the light.
“Deep breath,” she instructs. “On the exhale.”
I breathe in. Hold it.
Then exhale slowly.
The blade touches my lower lip, and there’s a sharp, bright sting. Warm blood drips down my chin.
