Page 80 of Carnival Master

He tapes the edges down securely. “You should have full range of motion, but take it easy for a few days. If you notice any signs of infection—redness, swelling, fever—get yourself to a doctor.”

I nod, rolling my shoulder experimentally. It hurts, but I’ve had worse.

“All set,” he says, stripping off his gloves. “Just remember to change that bandage.”

Sofia rushes to my side the moment the paramedic steps away, her hands fluttering over my bandaged shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay? That looks painful.”

I catch her hands in mine. “It’s nothing. Just have to take iteasy for a few days.”

Her bottom lip trembles. “He could have killed you.”

“But he didn’t.” I press a kiss on her forehead. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ve had enough of this warehouse.”

“Agreed,” Phoenix says, tucking his laptop under his arm. “Our work here is done.”

I scan the group—Lars is already straddling his motorcycle, adjusting his gloves. Nash, Colt, and Remy head toward the van they brought while Gage silently waits for direction.

“Let’s head back to the carnival,” I announce, fishing my keys from my pocket. “Time to get back to business.”

We walk to my Mustang, the chrome gleaming under the warehouse lights. Sofia pauses before opening the back door.

“Gage, why don’t you take the front?” she offers. “You’ll have more legroom.”

Gage’s massive frame dwarfs the passenger seat as he folds himself in without a word. Sofia slides into the back with Phoenix, who’s already typing on his phone.

I ease behind the wheel, careful not to jar my shoulder. The engine roars to life, and I catch Lars’s nod in my rearview mirror as he revs his bike. The van pulls out behind us, and we leave the warehouse and Jimmy Moretti’s broken empire in our dust.

37

SOFIA

The hot coffee cup in my hands does little to ease my nerves. I sit at Nonna’s kitchen table, the familiar scent of her homemade biscotti filling the air. As I explain my plans to leave with Tyson and the carnival, Sasha sits across from me, eyes wide.

“You’re joking, right?” Sasha leans forward. “This is the same guy who stalked you through your webcam.”

“I know how it sounds.” I trace the rim of my cup. “But he’s different than what you think. He saved me from becoming like my mother.”

Nonna remains quiet, her weathered hands folded in her lap. The silence stretches between us, broken only by the ticking of her ancient wall clock.

“Nonna?” I reach for her hand. “You could come with us. There’s plenty of room, and?—”

She shakes her head, a soft smile playing on her lips. “No, tesoro. I’m too old to be running around with carnival folk. My bones need rest, and my garden needs tending.”

“But after everything that’s happened with Dad?—”

“Your father made his choices.” She squeezes my hand. “Now, you must make yours.”

Sasha shifts in her seat. “I still think this is crazy, but...” She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “If you want this, I’ll support you.”

“It is.” I straighten my shoulders. “Ty might have pursued me aggressively initially, but he’s shown me what real love feels like. What freedom feels like.”

The kitchen falls quiet, save for the ticking clock. My coffee grows cold, untouched, as I watch these two women who have been my anchors process the news of my departure.

Nonna’s eyes mist over as she releases my hand. “Your mother...” She pauses, collecting herself. “Maria was so much like you, tesoro. Beautiful, strong-willed. But your grandfather—” She shakes her head. “He wouldn’t listen when I begged him not to force her into marriage with Jimmy.”

My throat tightens. “You tried to stop it?”

“Of course I did. I saw how the arranged engagement was killing her spirit.” Nonna’s voice breaks. “The depression started right after the wedding. She’d sit for hours, staring out windows, barely eating. Jimmy kept her like a bird in a gilded cage, just as your grandfather wanted. Exactly what he did to you, too.”

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