Page 49 of The Silence Lies

Raf pockets his hands, looking a little more sheepish now. He looks like he has years on everyone in this room, maybe even the same age as me but I don’t know that much about him.

“I’ll lift some prints and see if I can get a match on any of them.”

“Thank you,” Levi murmurs, though I can hear the reluctance in his voice.

“Sure,” he replies nonchalantly. “We’ll find out who ordered this hit.”

“I think we already know the answer to that,” Sera retorts, standing up stiffly. Her sparkly dress still clings to her slender body, though it no longer holds the elegance it did before. There’s a tear along the bottom, uneven and mismatched from where Luca used it to form a makeshift tourniquet. Rips form in various places, on the dress, and as my gaze tours her lithe frame, I notice the crimson cuts decorating her pretty little feet. Aside from the bandages on her head and arm, she’s in one piece. While it eases some of my guilt, it doesn’t completely diminish because we should not have survived that collision.

Raf doesn’t respond to Sera. I don’t think there is anything he can say to her that will ease the tension suffocating the room. I can practically taste the bitterness tainting it.

“I’ll see you out,” Luca says as he leads Raf away with his doctor in tow. A tense silence falls over the rest of us. The Ferrante brothers are still rounding up security by the looks of things, setting up new plans and perimeter checks, so that leaves just me, Sera and Levi.

“Are you okay?” he asks Sera.

“It’s nothing painkillers can’t fix,” she huffs, drawing her eyes to me. “What about you?” She steps towards me cautiously, her brows furrowed in what I can only describe as worry. She reaches up slowly, her hand cupping my cheek and turning my head to the side.

A zap of frenetic energy pings straight to my chest. I nod, even though I don’t deserve her help right now. It’ll only make it harder for me to push away the guilt festering inside of me. The look in her dark eyes is soft, and that makes this situation even worse. I can’t do this. I can’t be here. I can’t stand in front of Bianchi, accepting her kindness and support when I let her down.

“Call the doctor back, Levi,” she orders over her shoulder.

Levi goes to move but stops when he notices me pulling her hand away. I step back, shaking my head.

“Gio,” she frowns, tilting her head at me.

I can’t give her the explanation she craves because I don’t have one. I know it’s hurting her, even though we’ve only known each other a short amount of time. I can’t do this. I’m already conjuring up a storm of anger, there’s no way I want to be around anyone for that.

I take another step away.

“Gio—“

“Let him go, beautiful.” Levi joins her, planting a kiss on her temple. I’ve noticed him doing that a lot recently, and let’s not forget the moment they had in the dressing room last week. I pretty much heard everything, and while that shouldn’t bother me, I do feel envious. I just don’t want to admit it.

I offer Levi an appreciative look and he reciprocates with a smile. He’s always fucking smiling.

I wish I could smile.

I wish I had something to be happy about like he does.

Instead, I’m surrounded by my own desolation. I’m drowning in guilt and resentment, lost in my helplessness.

I leave before any more questions are asked; before Luca returns, or the Ferrante brothers. I leave before anyone has a chance to dig deep and place the blame on me.

Stepping outside, I’m finally able to take a deep breath. It does nothing to cool the sweat rolling down my temple, or calm the anxiety inside, but it does help me focus.

Only for a little while.

Serafina

I don’t ever remember feeling so much pain as I do now, all at the same time. It’s like a dump-truck decided to pummel into me, then finish the job by reversing over me, slowly. My arm is burning up, like someone is dragging a hot poker through my skin, and my head feels like I’ve gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson.

I have no idea how I even survived the collision last night. Or how I didn’t walk away with at least one broken bone. Aside from the gunshot wound, I’m not in bad shape. Telling that to my body is another story entirely.

Rolling myself out of bed is a task, especially with only one good arm and blurry vision. I guess you never realize how much you rely on certain body parts until you need to use them. After the shootout, I thought I would have spent all night tossing and turning. Instead, as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out. I guess the painkillers the doctor gave me really worked because I didn’t feel a thing, until this morning.

Forcing myself upright, I steady myself against the wall before I even decide to make the trip to the bathroom. It’s only a few steps, but between my head and my body, they’re both refusing to cooperate.

I groan with every step as I make my way to the bathroom, finally able to examine my reflection carefully. I’m not even shocked to see that the cut on my lip has evolved to a swollen bruised mess. There’s not a lot I can do to cover that up, but at this point, it’s the least of my worries.

---