Chapter 49 - Angela

My whole body ached, even with all the nurses swearing they were giving me the maximum morphine they could. Frank, Nero, and him—they hadn't left my side for even an instant since I woke up. I was taken everywhere in that hospital for exams, tests, and stitches.

"Good evening," the family's trusted doctor entered, looking at the men and then at the chart in his hands, without the courage to look at me. "You have some broken ribs, some wounds in the vaginal and anal canal, as well as on the cervix, but they'll all be treated, and you'll be fully recovered soon. Later, we can think about reconstructing the part of the finger you lost—for now, I advise rest. You were lucky..."

"Lucky?" The demon grabbed the doctor by the collar, shoving him against the wall. "How can you say she was lucky?"

"Th-that... that she's not de... dead, sir."

"Why are you acting like this?" I questioned, drawing everyone's attention in the room, because since the warehouse, I hadn't said another word. "It's not his fault that you finally got what you wanted."

"What?" He released the doctor, turning to me with confusion taking over his face.

"You wished we'd be equals, didn't you? Now we are—you got what you wanted so badly!" I declared, staring into his eyes, and forced a painful smile, letting a single bitter tear slide down my face, stinging every one of my wounds. "Now get out—I don't want to see you until I'm back home."

I couldn't even say his name, even after repeating it in my mind a thousand times during that hell. My mind kept going back to him, to all the moments he made me laugh, made me believe he loved me, to every thing that made me fall for him from the day we met.

But now every moment with him was tainted by that pain, by the laughter of those disgusting men, by the filthy touch. All my good memories with him were stained by Filippo's voice, saying how he'd break me and make him suffer by forcing him to watch it all.

All that was left were the bad moments, and the worst was knowing it was all my fault—my stupidity led me to that parking lot alone, led me into the hands of our enemy.

"I'm not going anywhere—you won't push me away!" He insisted, coming closer to me, and I turned my face, unable to face his.

"Every second you spend in this hospital, I'll be right here, by your side."

"I don't want you here!" I affirmed, clenching my fists to resist the pain that even his scent caused me in that instant. "You have a funeral to prepare and a wedding—you want everything perfect, because those women deserve it. So go, and take him with you."

I stared at Nero, whose eyes were full of compassion, and Frank, who despite seeming like an unshakeable rock, I knew was in agony. It had been harrowing days—moments of pain and terror that wouldn't be forgotten easily—but we needed to move forward.

Reluctantly and grumbling, he followed the two out, allowing me to cry in peace without embarrassing myself further. I knew the consequences of what had happened, how the other mafia men would see their boss from today on, and that didn't even come close to how it must have brought back all kinds of horrible memories for him and Nero.

I couldn't sleep that night, or the next, or the one after. The only way to make me rest was to give me sedatives, so I'd black out completely; otherwise, every nap I took, I'd wake up screaming and crying.

All the screams of pain I'd swallowed to not give Filippo the pleasure of seeing me break seemed trapped inside me and found a way out when I fell asleep, losing control of my barriers.

I stayed in that hospital bed for five days, recovering and being broken by the images that seemed unwilling to leave my mind. And even though the doctors wanted to keep me there and I wished I didn't have to face Marco again, I knew they'd delayed the funeral as long as they could, and Mel didn't deserve that.

I gathered all my strength when Nero told me the day and asked him to come pick me up. I didn't feel ready to enter that house again, especially after all the shame I was feeling, but I couldn't not be there.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Nero questioned for the thousandth time when he saw me coming out of the bathroom in a long black dress with a jacket over it—the same one Melissa had made me wear several times.

"I'm fine. I'll cover this eye with some makeup, and we can go," I murmured, staring at my reflection in the mirror for the first time since it happened and nearly losing my breath.

My eye was less swollen, but around it still sported a greenish color. At least the cuts had healed, and all the marks were hidden under those clothes.

But what shocked me was my countenance—it looked like I'd died and been brought back to life but without a soul. There was no sparkle in my eyes, and despite my shock, my face seemed to have lost the ability to express anything.

"Here," Nero handed me a pair of dark sunglasses when I turned, ready to leave the hospital room. "We have two men out here and a few more in the parking lot, but it'll just be the two of us in the car."

Seeing that he cared enough to warn me touched me—maybe he didn't want me to get scared seeing everyone walking close to us, or maybe he wanted to reassure me we were protected. Whatever his reason, I appreciated him saying it.

I forced a smile on my lips and let him open the door. The hallway seemed busy—some nurses hurried by, a doctor passed close enough that I held my breath and stepped aside, turning my face in that instant and spotting a figure turning at the end of the side hallway.

Instinctively, I placed my hand on my gun, and for a moment, I could swear Marco's scent invaded my nose as I took a step forward, approaching him. But the image of the man was quickly blurred by two doctors who passed in front of me.

"Ma'am, are you okay?" one of the soldiers questioned, making me stop my movements.

"Angela? What is it?" Nero approached, filling my field of vision and making me turn my gaze back to him.

"There are only our soldiers here today, right?" He nodded in agreement as I holstered the gun. "Your brother stayed away from the hospital as promised?"

"You asked him not to enter the room—I don't know about the hospital. But rest easy—Marco's at the church like everyone else, just waiting for you."

I wanted to believe him as we were taken to the church, but I couldn't stop thinking about what he said: *I don't know about the hospital.* But it couldn't have been him there—Marco wouldn't waste time lurking in the hallway knowing I didn't want to see him. He surely had more important things to occupy himself with.

"Tell me how the planning for taking over the Cosa Nostra territory has been," I asked, curious and anxious to know what Marco was working on now.

"Marco hasn't said anything about that yet—he's been focused on you, the wedding, and the problems happening in Mexico. But I'm sure he'll tell you everything when you face each other."

I swallowed hard, thinking about how it would be to see him after these days. I knew I couldn't avoid being by his side during the funeral—I couldn't escape his conversations either, or his gaze.

God give me strength, because it would be extremely painful to be by his side during those hours.