“Let’s swim!” I say, jumping up and down, looking up at his smiling face.
“Be careful, Kat. Don’t let go of my hand,” he says, as we intertwine our fingers together. A gesture we’re so used to. He’s always held my hands like that, tight, and sure. And I love that I always have his hand to hold, no matter what.
“I love you, Mateo!” I shout to the sea, and I hear him giggle. Only this time, his giggle is no longer that of a small boy. My heart tightens at the sound. I turn, and he is there. Smiling at me, his eyes that are the same color as mine, reassuring as always.
“Lia…” He whispers, and I frown.
“I love you, Teo,” I say, and a lump in my throat cuts the oxygen from my lungs.
“I love you, Lia.”He says it again.
“No, it’s me, Kat!” I shout, but it feels like he can’t hear me at all.
“Always remember what I taught you. Trust yourself. You’re strong enough.” he reaches for my face, and I press my cheek against his hand.
“I don’t want to live a life without you, Mateo. Take me with you, please.'' He doesn’t respond, but his arms envelop me. My body relaxes in his hold, and for one moment, I feel safe again. Complete and whole. I open my eyes to look up to him, and my stomach drops.
His face is bloodied, his eyes are black, his skin grows cold, and he freezes.
No. No, please, God no!
“Mateo!!!” I scream, my body bucking against the bed, the movement sending an impaling pain through my shoulder.
“Hey, hey… It’s me. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
My eyes take a moment to focus as I groan from the pain. When I see Damiano’s face, his eyes are filled with worry.
“It’s just a nightmare,” he whispers.
“Where am I?” I say as he gently pushes my body, guiding me to lie down, the pain is easing a little as I do so.
“You’re at my place. You’re safe,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed beside me.
“Mateo?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
He shakes his head slowly, his lips pulling into a line. I close my eyes and feel tears streaming down my temples, then I feel Damiano’s lips brush against my forehead.
“Rest, you’ll be safe here. I’m so sorry, Dolcezza.” I hear him say.
Then I black out.
Chapter 8
Damiano
“Is she going to be okay?” I ask the doctor.
He fumbles with his bag, his hands shaking slightly under my gaze. He inspects the angry, red lacerations encircling her wrists. Then he moves to her right shoulder, which sits at a sickening angle.
“She’s in shock,” he says. “But this shoulder… It’s dislocated. Possibly even fractured.”
He looks up at me, bewilderment in his eyes. “These marks on her wrists… it seems she was bound tight. With a dislocated shoulder like this… she must have pushed her legs over to free herself.”
I look at the rings on her wrists and picture the way she held the gun at the club.
She stepped through. She tortured herself to survive. She forced her bound hands below her legs, popping her own shoulder out of the socket to free her hands. Then she drove herself to my club.
“She’s fucking strong,” I say, a new kind of respect warring with the rage in my gut.
