I turn to face Victor. "You're making a mistake, you know. You know the person you work for. You know what kind of man he is. You know they don't call him the Ghost for no reason."
Victor laughs and looks back at me. "Please. Maybe in the past. Maybe three years ago. Fuck, maybe even two months ago, I would have believed that. But he's grown soft. He needs to be hardened. I refuse to work for somebody who allows a woman to control his every action and whim."
I'm struck by the venom in his words. He seems angry. He seems upset.
I have just one question in my mind. It’s the same question that has been repeating in my mind since this entire situation started.
"Why? Why are you doing this?" I ask him.
"You'll see soon enough. Or maybe not. It doesn't matter either way. You have a role to play in this and as long as you play your part perfectly, you'll be all right."
His words hang in the air, heavy with implication. The car speeds through the city, and I feel a deep sense of foreboding.
What role am I supposed to play? And why does Victor believe this is necessary? The uncertainty gnaws at me, but I know one thing: I have to stay sharp and find a way out of this.
The car speeds down the road, taking me further away from everything I know, everything I love. And all I can think about is Lorenzo, lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life while I’m being driven to God knows where.
The darkness outside the window mirrors the darkness closing in around me and I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever see Lorenzo again.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lorenzo
Pain.
That’s the first thing I register as I slowly come back to consciousness.
A searing, all-consuming pain radiates from my side, near my belly. I try to move, but the agony is too much.
I force my eyes open, blinking against the harsh light. The sterile smell of the hospital fills my nostrils, and the steady beeping of machines surrounds me. I’m alive. I made it. Barely.
I hear a door open and footsteps approach. I turn my head slightly and see Renee standing there, her face a mask of worry and relief.
This is a rare moment of vulnerability for her, but I can tell she’s trying to keep it in check. We don’t do vulnerability well in this family.
“You look like shit,” she says, attempting a weak smile.
I manage a grimace, which is the closest I can get to a smile right now. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
The doctor walks in, a serious expression on his face. He checks the monitors and my chart before turning to me.
“Mr. Duretti, you were very lucky. The bullet missed your vital organs by millimeters. We had to perform emergency surgery to remove it and repair the damage. You’ll need to rest and avoid any strenuous activity for a while.”
I nod, absorbing the information. “How long until I can get out of here?”
The doctor frowns. “You need to stay for at least a few more days. Your body needs time to heal.”
Renee snorts. “Good luck keeping him here.”
The doctor gives her a stern look but then turns back to me. “Please, try to rest.”
As the doctor leaves, I look at Renee. There’s an unspoken tension between us, a reminder of the strain in our relationship.
But there’s also relief in her eyes. She’s glad I didn’t die, even if she won’t admit it.
“Would’ve been sad if you died,” she mutters, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Nice to know you care,” I reply, my voice weaker than I’d like.