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"Maybe that's proven to be true," she replies, her tone soft and careful.
"Was it true? Or did it happen that way because our dad groomed us to think that?" I ask, bitterness seeping into myvoice. It feels like a betrayal, even to myself, to reveal these truths aloud.
"Constantino," she whispers, her hand brushing against my back.
The touch sends shivers down my spine, and I wonder if she knows just how much power she has over me right now.
"Your tattoo... the medical alert one," she asks cautiously, "when did you get it?"
"Fuck," I sigh, feeling trapped. Resigned, I admit, "After the first time I had an episode. Dad made me get it, and then I was never allowed out of his sight."
Her caress against my back lingers as my eyes grow heavy. Exhaustion from the day crashes down on me, and I let sleep claim me before she can ask anything more.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The soft light of the room casts shadows across his face as he sleeps, almost peaceful in that moment. I wonder how someone so deeply involved in crime can look so innocent. The faint outline of his medical alert tattoo peeks out from under his bracelet, and a million questions swirl around in my head.
I've always thought of him as the villain, trying to take over the family business, living a life full of violence and deceit. But now, watching him sleep, it seems like maybe he never really had a choice.
What does he mean by "episode" anyway? That tattoo could mean a number of things. Diabetes comes to mind, but I don't see any needle marks on his arm for testing sugar levels or taking insulin. My brain is working overtime, trying to figure out what could have driven his father to make him get that tattoo.
"Damn it," I mutter under my breath, realizing I'm getting too caught up in my thoughts about him when I should be focused on escaping this place. Time's ticking.
He stirs in his sleep, pulling me back to reality. This might be my only chance to get out of here.
I gather my things quickly, trying not to make a sound. As I glance over at him one last time, I spot car keys sticking out of his jean pocket. Jackpot.
I have no idea if my own car is still sitting outside where I left it when I got here. I've still got my keys, but I'm not taking any chances. I want to make it as hard as possible for Constantino to follow me, and if that means stealing his car keys, so be it. Carefully, I reach over and grab them, the metal cold against my fingers.
"Sorry, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do," I whisper as I tiptoe toward the door.
I sneak my way through the dimly lit corridors of the mansion, each step more determined than the last. I finally make my way to the foyer, relief washing over me as I see a sliver of daylight through the front door.
The guys I treated earlier are still resting, their breaths still a bit ragged. I listen for a second and breathe a sigh of relief. They're stable.
Sebastian's there too, slumped against the wall, trying to stay awake. As I walk past, his eyes flutter open, locking onto mine. I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to say or do.
"Hey, any issues with... you know, them?" I gesture toward the injured men, trying to act casual.
Sebastian yawns and shakes his head. "Nah, they're good. You did a great job, Doc."
"Thanks," I reply, feeling a slight flush creeping up my cheeks. "I need to head to work now," I lie.
His gaze shifts from my face to the keys I'm clutching in my hand. Shit. He probably knows I lifted these from Constantino's pants. Surprisingly, he doesn't call me out on it. Instead, hepushes himself off the wall and says, "I gotta get back home to my kid. Mind giving me a ride?"
"Sure," I say, biting down on my lip as I try to hide my surprise. I open the front door and breathe a sigh of relief as I see my car still there, just where I parked it. I'm still taking the Suburban's keys, though.
We climb into my car together, the silence hanging between us like a thick fog. The engine rumbles to life, and I pull out of the driveway.
The ride is mostly silent and awkward. I can tell Sebastian's exhausted – the dark circles under his eyes have only gotten darker.
"Which way?" I ask, trying to fill the silence with something, anything.
"Take a left up ahead," he answers without looking at me. His voice is thick with fatigue, and I almost find myself feeling guilty for the life he's living that's got him so worn down.
"Turn right here," Sebastian mumbles, his quiet voice barely audible over the hum of the car engine. I follow his directions, trying to focus on the road ahead while my mind churns with a thousand questions.
"Hey," I begin, unable to contain my curiosity any longer. "How do you know Constantino?"
