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You don’t.

I swallow away some pills the nurses gave me and stare out the window. My leg is almost healed, but the pain in my heart doesn’t easily mend. I’m conflicted, and I don’t know how to tear away all that hatred I once felt for a single girl and turn it into something productive. Something I can live with.

She deserves so much better than what I gave her all this time. How do I make that right? Should I even go to visit her if she doesn’t come to me first? Is it worth it after all the pain we both endured at the hands of my uncle?

I don’t feel like I have the right. Not after everything I did to her.

Someone knocks on my door, and I turn my head to see who it is.

“Hey.” It’s Matteo with a pizza box in his hand. “Can I come in?”

“If you leave your gun at the door, sure.”

He laughs and raises both hands. “Didn’t bring any. Look.” He pulls out his pockets, and then shows me his buckle, which are all empty. “I come in peace.”

“Good. I don’t think the hospital staff would take it so well seeing an actual gun at the door.”

He laughs again and holds up the pizza box as if it’s some kind of trophy. “Thought you might enjoy some actual good food for once.”

“Thanks, dude,” I say as he puts it down on my bedside table. When he opens it and tries to offer me a piece, I say, “No, thanks. Not hungry yet.”

“Bummer. Mind if I take one?” He shrugs.

“Be my guest.” I wave it off, and he eagerly takes a bite out of the pepperoni pizza. It does smell nice, but I just ate, unfortunately. “Save me some for later, though.”

“Of course,” he says. “I just thought I’d bring it … ya know, as a sort of peace offering.” He gives me an awkward smile as he sits down on the seat beside my bed.

“Thanks,” I say. “You didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, bro. I did.” He clears his throat. “Look, man … I wanna apologize for shooting at you and all that idiotic stuff.”

“I get it,” I say.

“No, I’m serious, bro. I know what I did was wrong, and I wanna own up to that.”

“You did what my uncle told you to do,” I reply.

“I know,” he says, frowning, “but that doesn’t make it right.”

“It’s fine. I’m over it,” I say, waving it away. “Besides, I shot you too, remember?”

“How could I not,” he says, laughing a little as he shows me his patched-up thigh. “Probably gonna be a scar.” He lifts his pants up high and temporarily rips off the Band-Aid to show me the wound.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” I say. It looks nasty, and I’m glad when he covers it up again.

“Gah, don’t worry about it,” he says. “I deserved it. I should’ve done the right thing and stood up to your uncle.” He shakes his head. “Still can’t believe he actually got all those innocent people killed. And to think I wanted to work for that asshole.” He blinks a couple of times and looks at me. “No offense.”

“None taken,” I reply. “He is … or was an asshole.” I take in a breath. “Even though he was my uncle, I’m fucking glad he’s gone.”

Matteo nods a couple of times, and it’s quiet for a few seconds.

“I just gotta find a new job, I guess,” Matteo says, snorting a little. “The hotel’s busted, and all your uncle’s properties were confiscated by the police, so I’m out of a job.”

“You’ll find one soon enough.” I pat him on the shoulder. “You’re a great bodyguard, and you have perfect aim. I don’t think anyone will think twice about hiring you.”

He seems to perk up a little. “You think?”

“I know so.” I wink. “They’d be dumb shits to let you walk.”

He smirks, and I can tell he’s proud of himself. Glad I could at least make one person a little bit happier.

“So what are you gonna do then?” he asks me.

I suck in a breath. “I don’t know really.” I think about it for a few seconds. “Maybe I’ll go visit some of my old friends. See if they still have a job for me.”

“Some old friends?” Matteo rubs his chin. “Now you have me intrigued.”

“It’s nothing you’d like, trust me,” I say, shrugging. “Just a boring desk job.”

That’s a lie, but I don’t want him involved. Not when that friend is Chase Marion, a homicidal maniac. But he’s filthy rich, and he knows right from wrong. We’ve helped each other out on multiple occasions. Or rather … I’ve helped him out a lot. I don’t doubt he’d offer me a job if I told him I needed one, but I don’t want Matteo to get on that side of the tracks.

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