But it was something. I dropped the phone beside me, turned Elio’s body to the side, brought his chin up after I dialed Devil’s number, and he picked up, voice groggy.
“Z?”
“Medic!” I yelled. “Hurry up, it’s Elio!”
He cursed before the line cut.
All that happened next was a blur. Casmiro had rushed in shortly after with a medic, and soldiers were everywhere. I was still in shock, still couldn’t process what had happened, and even when Angelo arrived the next day and asked who had found Elio, I still couldn’t remember half of what he said. Still, I knew he had taken me away from all the chaos and from a confused Devil who was having a conversation with Casmiro about Elio’s health issues.
The empathy in Angelo’s eyes was something I would never forget. He thanked me, tried to talk me out of my head, told me about the first time he had found Elio, told me abouthis sister, and eventually asked if he could trust me with sensitive information about Elio. I told him yes, and he told me of Elio’s special training in the army. I had been sad then, but the sadness that touched my insides didn’t compare to my fury. It was a violation—all on the orders from his sick father.
A sick father who Elio seemed to believe was alive, in that motel, where he had tried to hurt himself, and his supposed father who had a gravestone right here in the compound, right beside his mother and siblings.
I didn’t question it then because I had been more focused on getting him to give me the gun.
He had made me promise not to tell anyone about his father being alive, but I had meant it when I told him there was nothing to tell because his father was dead, and he had been dead for years.
Right off the bat, after he confirmed he had faked the man’s death, I had told him he needed help—and I had also meant that.
But now wasn’t the time for thinking all that. Now was the time to talk.
“You should be on bed rest, Elio. You should be in bed, in that fucking hospital, resting; you should be on your way to get a fucking shrink to help you—in fact, I hope that’s where you are getting ready to go.”
“No.”
“No?”
“I do not have time for this, Zahra,” he stated plainly, reaching behind me to grab his suit jacket from where it hung. He put it on. “Give me the room keys; I have a week’s worth of work to see—”
“Are you fucking serious?”
He picked up his watch, fixing it around his wrist without looking up.
“Are you trying to act like you haven’t been unconscious for a week after OD’ing?”
He fixed his collar, gaze still not meeting mine. “I am fine now, no? Do I seem unwell to you?”
“Elio,” I called, trying to bring him back to his senses.
“Room keys. Stop being a nuisance.”
“Can you even try to fucking look at me!” I yelled.
His body stopped looking for things to distract itself with as he sighed, finally looking down at me, his gaze locking with mine. No remorse. No regret. No guilt. Nothing.
“Keys,” he stated.
I shook my head, sniffing and wiping the tears from my eyes. “That’s all you can say to me? Keys? Like it matters?”
“It does matter. You locked the door when you came in; I need the keys to unlock the door in order for me to go out.”
I bit the inside of my lip. “Elio… you almost died. Hours after your birthday, do you remember?”
“I am aware. While it is quite unfortunate, I am now back, aliveagain, and everyone is happy, yes? I do not want to speak on it, nor do I want to dwell on a past that I cannot vividly remember, nor can I change, so if you would give me thefuckingkeys and let me go my way, that would be most appreciated.”
“No. I want to talk about this now.”
“For the love of God, Zahra, I am barely managing to stay composed before you right now.”
