Relief hits so hard I almost hate it.
“Fratello,” I whisper.
His mouth curves faintly.
Barely there.
“You look terrible,” he rasps.
A broken laugh tears out of me before I can stop it.
I cross the room and take his hand carefully.
“You got shot in the chest and still find time to insult me.”
“Importanza.”
I bow my head over his hand.
Only for a second.
That’s all I can afford.
Then I lift my gaze.
“My girls?”
Stefano’s weak smile disappears.
His fingers tighten around mine.
“He took them.”
My stomach turns to stone.
“Victor didn’t,” I say quickly. “Trust me, brother. I have spent hours trying to get answers from him. He does not have them.”
Stefano’s eyes sharpen.
“No,” he breathes.
I lean closer.
“What?”
“Not Victor.”
The room goes so still I can hear the monitor beside him.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Stefano swallows hard.
Pain flashes across his face.
