Page 247 of Ricardo

My apartment is full of bodies and bullets.

My dress is in a hospital bag somewhere, soaked with Dante’s blood.

My phone is gone, or with police, or still inside the apartment. I do not even know.

And Dante is—

I stop the thought before it finishes.

He is still in surgery.

That is all.

He is in surgery.

He made it to surgery.

Victoria said that mattered.

I hold onto it because there is nothing else to hold.

Mario rises suddenly.

My whole body jolts.

Ricardo’s hand tightens over mine.

But Mario is only looking at a nurse crossing the hall. She passes us without stopping.

The disappointment that moves through the room is almost physical.

Mario sits again.

Victoria reaches for his hand this time.

He gives it to her.

Nobody speaks.

After a while, Tomasso stands and walks a few feet away. Matteo follows him with his eyes but lets him go. Tomasso stops near the vending machines, stares at them, then turns and comes back without buying anything.

Diego watches the double doors.

Lorenzo watches Ricardo.

Ricardo watches nothing.

That frightens me more than the rest.

His eyes are fixed ahead, but I do not think he is seeing the doors. His face is composed, as if every feeling has been locked down so hard that the lock itself might crack.

I lean closer without thinking about it.

His gaze shifts to me immediately.

“Are you sick again?”

“No.”