Dante’s POV“Martina… are you hurt? Tell me where it hurts.” My voice doesn’t sound like mine. It comes out rough, unsteady, like something dragged over broken glass. I barely register the gun still in my hand as I drop to my knees in front of her, my eyes scanning her face, her neck, her shoulders, everywhere at once like if I don’t check fast enough, I’ll miss something critical.“Look at me,” I say, my hands already on her, cupping her face, brushing over her hair, her cheeks. “Talk to me.”She’s shaking, not just trembling… her whole body is coming apart in my hands, like she’s barely holding herself together. Her fingers clutch the front of my vest so tightly I can feel it through the fabric.“I’m okay,” she whispers, but her voice cracks halfway through. “He… hit me, but I’m okay.”My jaw tightens. “Where?”“Just… just once,” she says quickly, like she knows what I’m thinking. “Dante, listen to me, I’m okay. The baby…” her hand drops instantly to her stomach, protective, despera
Read more