I don't know why, but I suddenly imagine her years from now.
Older and stronger, maybe free of this mafia life.
Someone asks about the scar.
She lifts her arm, traces the jagged M with her fingertips, and says, "A man I cared for used me as bait."
The thought breaks something inside me.
My head drops forward, chin almost touching my chest.
I deserve this chair. I deserve worse.
The door creaks open, and I hear footsteps.
I lift my head to see him walk in.
"You're awake."
It's Shane. Declan's right hand.
I don't respond. Just lower my head and stare at the floor between my feet.
"Declan wanted to put a bullet in you the second he saw her arm," Shane says. "Callum's the only reason you're still breathing."
My jaw tightens.
Where is she?
The words stick in my throat, but I force them out.
"Where is she?"
"Upstairs. Safe. No thanks to you."
The words hit like a knife between the ribs.
"They're deciding in the morning, I guess," Shane continues. "Whether you're worth keeping alive."
I lift my head, meet his eyes.
"And if I'm not?"
Shane's expression doesn't change.
"You'll feel pain like never before."
He turns to leave, and I break.
"Did she ask for this?"
Shane stops, his back to me.
"Ask for what?"
"My execution."
The silence stretches between us, and I start to fear his response.
