Page 143 of The Savage

Maddie reaches me first and wraps her arms around me and holds on like she’s afraid I’ll vanish if she loosens her grip. I clutch her back hard, my hands shaking. Her shoulder is warm. Real. She smells like home and fear and relief all mixed together.

‘You’re okay,’ she whispers, voice cracking. ‘Oh thank God, you’re okay. When Cesare said you were under attack—’ Her voice breaks.

I squeeze her tight and nod against her, breath hitching. ‘I’m here.’

Sofiya steps in close, hand firm between my shoulder blades. She leans towards Maddie, quiet, controlled.

‘She remembers,’ she says in her non-dramatic way. And yet it tightens the tension. Worse. Every man in here feels it settle into his bones.

Maddie’s head snaps up, eyes wide as the room changes. She glances at her husband, who nods. Then at Rafa, her blue eyes softening with sympathy but also questioning. Protective. A look that says she’ll go to war with her own husband’s family to protect me.

Just as she’s always done since I was little and she took beatings from our father and grandfather meant for me. Just as she did that day in the church when she snatched the gun from me and screamed at me. Run.

She saved me, even without knowing the full truth.

I hug her again just in gratitude for that moment of selflessness.

But the lethal restlessness intensifies and I know I can’t hold back any longer.

Renzo is a solid watchful pillar behind me, close enough that I can feel him without touching him. He looks like he’s holding himself together with will alone. His jaw is set so hard I can hear his teeth grind.

Dr Conti clears his throat from the edge of the room. ‘She should be examined,’ he says. ‘With the trauma and shock and the memory return like this⁠—’

‘No.’ The word is out of my mouth before I think about it. I lift my head, ignoring the throbbing at my temples, the terror in my heart from experiencing that horrible gunfight. At the time it was so alien, so terrifying. But now, I know it’s par for the course for the famigghia. For the life I was born into. For the life running through my veins. So I shake my head again. ‘No doctors.’

Renzo turns to me sharply. ‘Giada⁠—’

‘I need to say this first,’ I tell him. ‘Please.’

His eyes search mine, frantic and protective, furious at the world. He wants to pick me up. Lock me somewhere safe. I know it the same way I know my own heartbeat.

He exhales through his nose. ‘All right,’ he says, rough. ‘You say it.’

I step away from Maddie and move forward.

No one stops me. The men part without being told and I stand in the centre of the room, knees still weak, spine straight because it has to be.

Then I look at them. Every single one.

‘I know you’ve all been waiting years for this,’ I say. My voice doesn’t shake. I don’t know how. ‘And I’m sorry I couldn’t ease your pain earlier.’

Something moves through the room and I hold my breath a moment before I recognise it. Recognition. Acceptance of my acknowledging their pain. There’s lingering resentment too but I can’t deal with that for the moment.

Renzo speaks before I can spiral. ‘It wasn’t your fault, ragazza,’ he says, jaw tight. ‘Don’t take the blame for it.’

I look at him. Nod once.

Then I start.

‘You already know that the Russians and my grandfather wanted to strike a blow at your family. And Maddie has told you how we came to be there. Mama had gone to light a candle when the shooting started. I… I didn’t know where to run, whether to hide.’ The recollection chills my blood and shames me a little. ‘I was frozen when your… when Isabella saw me standing there,’ I say. ‘She was holding those flowers, and she… held out her hand to me, told me we needed to find a safe place. But… before I reached her, one of the Russians shot her.’

Faces harden. This part they know. Or think they do.

‘But it wasn’t fatal. She was still moving. Talking. She would’ve survived if…’ Chilled horror dredges through me as the scene plays out in macabre 3D. ‘When Madre Superiora appeared, I thought she was there to help us. But instead, she had a gun. She fired the fatal shot,’ I continue. ‘Without a word or explanation. She just… fired.’

A sound rips out of someone. I don’t look to see who.

‘She turned the gun on me. Asked if I wanted to die. Of course I didn’t want to die. When I said no, when I begged for my life, she put the gun in my hands. Told me if I told anyone about it I would be next. That it would be my word against hers.’