THE BROKEN MAN
2:34 AM — Abandoned Warehouse, Red Hook Brooklyn
Ghost lay on a stained mattress and tried to breathe through the pain.
His left side was on fire. The gunshot wound from when Aria had shot him when she’d been trying to save Luca had never fully healed properly. Infection had nearly killed him twice in the first three weeks. The bones had knitted incorrectly. The scar tissue had tightened into something that restricted his movement, that made every breath cost something.
His left eye was gone. Aria’s bullet had taken it as he’d been carrying Luca away from the safe house. The patch he wore had become part of his identity now, the visible marker of his failure, the scar that everyone could see.
He was thirty one years old and felt like something already dead that hadn’t
