Page 232 of Ricardo

Because I cannot stand anywhere else.

Her hands are still trembling.

I take them again.

She looks at me, eyes swollen, face pale beneath the streaks of dried blood and tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

I close my hands around hers.

“No more of that.”

Her mouth trembles.

I lower my voice so only she hears me.

“He got you out of that apartment alive.”

A tear slips down her cheek.

“And you got him here alive.”

She shakes her head once, but she does not argue.

That is all I can ask from her right now.

The surgery doors remain closed.

And every person I love stands beneath fluorescent light, waiting for my son to come back to us.

Chapter Thirty One

Julia

The bathroom is too bright. Too white. Too sharp after the dim horror of my apartment and the fluorescent blur of the waiting room. The mirrors stretch over the sinks, throwing my reflection back at me from too many angles.

I stand and just stare.

For a second, I do not recognize myself.

The green dress is ruined.

Blood stains the once-beautiful silk. It’s now dark and stiff where it has dried, brighter in places where it soaked deeper. There is blood on my forearms. Blood beneath my nails. Blood smeared along my wrist. A thin streak crosses my cheek.

Dante’s blood.

My stomach twists.

Victoria steps in front of me, blocking part of the mirror. “Look at me.”

I try.

My eyes keep dropping to the dress.

“I can’t wear this,” I whisper.

“I know.”