"Move your legs, Isabella. You’re blocking the path to the medical kit," Luca said, his voice grating against the steady hum of the van’s engine.I didn't move. I sat on the floor of the windowless laundry van, my back against a stack of rough, industrial towels that smelled like harsh bleach. I kept my eyes fixed on the vibrating metal door across from me. Every time the van hit a pothole, the entire frame shivered like it was about to fall apart."I said move," Luca repeated, his tone sharpening."And I said I’m busy," I snapped back, not even glancing at him.I was leaning over Enzo, who was stretched out on a pile of linen. His face was a pale, and his breath was coming in short, whistled gasps. I was using a damp cloth to wipe the sweat from his forehead, trying to keep his fever from spiking again. Enzo reached out, his hand trembling as he caught my wrist. His grip was weak, but his touch felt warmer and more human than anything I had felt from Luca all day."It’s okay, kid," E
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