Page 96 of The Savage

The air leaves my lungs in a slow, savage exhale.

Conti’s eyes are on me, but he keeps his mouth shut. Good man.

Giada looks at me – really looks – like she’s standing at the edge of a cliff.

‘Renzo,’ she says quietly. Then louder, rougher, as if she hates the tremble in her own voice. ‘Why can’t I remember what happened next? Did I kill your mother?’

The world tilts.

I reach for her before I can think better of it, thumb stroking at her temple, because she’s shaking again and I won’t watch her break. ‘Only you can tell me, baby.’

Her face tightens with frustrated tears. ‘That’s not an answer.’

‘It’s the only honest one I’ve got.’ I keep my voice low, controlled even as my chest feels like a live animal trying to claw its way out. ‘I wasn’t there. I arrived after it happened and I’ve hunted the truth for years. I know who orchestrated it. I know you were there. But I don’t know what you did.’

Her mouth parts. Her gaze darts, wild.

It’s like she wants me to hand her a verdict because carrying the unknown makes her feel monstrous.

But I can’t.

Not when the truth is still wrapped around her throat like a noose.

Conti straightens, sensing the damage and his own uselessness in this part of it. ‘I’ll give you both a moment,’ he says carefully. ‘But she needs rest. No pushing. No forcing.’

I look up. ‘First thing tomorrow. You come back. We talk about what she can handle.’

He nods once, wary of my tone. ‘Yes, Signore.’

As he moves towards the hall, Giada’s voice knifes after him. ‘Don’t go,’ she says sharply. ‘Please.’

Conti pauses, a glance flicking to me for permission like I’m her jailer.

I don’t like it. ‘No,’ I say to him. ‘Go. We’re done for now.’

With a tight nod, the doctor leaves. And Giada turns to me, furious. ‘You don’t get to dismiss people like you own the air.’

‘I do when they’re in my house.’

‘I’m not your property.’

‘Could’ve fooled me last night.’

Her breath catches. Her whole body goes rigid.

I see it then, the war inside her. Faith and flesh. Fear and need. The terrifying pull of memory she can’t grasp and desire she can’t deny.

She stands, suddenly restless, pacing like a caged thing.

‘Stop,’ I say, because I can feel her spiralling. ‘Sit down.’

‘No.’

‘Giada.’

She whirls. ‘How can you be calm right now? How can you just sit there and let me drown in questions? You know more than you’re saying.’

‘I’m calm because if I lose my head, you lose yours too.’