CHAPTER 33
DOMENICO
The scent of antiseptic made my jaw clench.
I stood behind the glass, watching her.
She was pale. Tubes in her nose. An IV taped to her bruised hand. Her chest lifted in shallow, steady breaths, the only thing reminding me that she was still here.
“Internal bleeding,” the surgeon had said. “Collapsed lung. Concussion. Several fractured ribs. She’s lucky to be alive.”
Lucky.
I hated that word.
She shouldn’t need luck. She had me.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out without looking, eyes still on her motionless form. The message was from Matteo.
Matteo: Check this. Now.
Attached: a video file.
I tapped it.
The screen brightened to grainy surveillance footage. A shadowy figure approached the parked car outside the club. The license plate was clearl
