Page 51

Across the room, Valentina gives the paramedics her husband's name and tells them he's her emergency contact. One of the officers confirms her identification before stepping into the hallway to make a call.

"Am I going to jail?" I ask.

"We'll need a full statement, Ms. Collins. Right now, we're establishing what happened."

"She was in my apartment. I didn't let her in."

"I understand."

I want to believe him, but the kitchen looks like a crime scene because that's exactly what it is.

My gaze searches the living room until I spot Darcy crouched beneath the couch. Poe is hiding behind the television, and Murder Mittens' tail is sticking out from beneath the armchair.

"I need somebody to check on my cats," I whisper. "Mrs. Patterson lives across the hall. She has a spare key."

The officer agrees to contact her while the paramedics prepare Valentina for transport. I hear one of them say she's conscious and her condition is stable enough for the ambulance, and relief washes through me.

Whatever she's done, I don't want her to die.

Not even now.

The next several minutes pass in a blur of questions and police radios while I sit there wondering how my life has fallen apart so completely. They wheel the stretcher into the hallway just as I hear a familiar voice.

"Where is she?"

My entire body goes rigid.

Enzo.

He's coming toward us with Rocco a step behind him, his dark hair disheveled and his shirt open at the throat. I've never seen him look so frightened.

"Bridget."

He reaches me in seconds, his hands lifting toward my face before he notices the blood on my dress.

"Jesus Christ, sweetheart. Are you hurt? Whose blood is that?"

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Part of me wants to fall into his arms and let him make everything better, the way he always seems to.

Then the paramedics wheel Valentina into view.

Enzo turns toward the stretcher.

"Valentina?"

She looks at him, pale and exhausted, but still managing a bitter smile.

"Hello, Lorenzo."

I watch his eyes move from her to me, taking in the blood, the police officers, and the open door of my apartment.

His face goes terribly still.

I don't need any more explanations to understand that he knows exactly who she is.

"Is she your wife?"

Enzo looks at me, and for the first time since I've known him, he seems genuinely lost for words.