Page 90 of Caterina
It is such an Olivia thing to say that some awful half-hysterical part of me wants to laugh.
Instead, I press the heel of my hand to my forehead and close my eyes.
The image comes back immediately.
The fight.
The shove.
Adrian’s hand on my arm.
The gun in his hand.
The sound of shots in the stairwell, concrete exploding near my head.
The look on Roberto’s face when he opened the door with his weapon already drawn and told me to get down.
Then the blood.
God.
The blood.
My eyes open again so quickly it almost hurts.
“Has anyone called the doctor?” I ask.
Teresa answers without looking at me. “Elena did.”
Papà’s gaze shifts to her, then back to me. “He’s on his way.”
Not enough.
But good for now.
I look toward the foyer again.
No Adrian.
No Elena either.
Just voices too low to make out.
My fingers knot in the throw pillow beside me before I realize what I’m doing.
Papà sees that too.
Of course he does.
“He will be treated,” he says.
I look at him. “He was shot saving me.”
The room goes quieter.
Even Olivia stops moving.
Not because they didn’t know it already. Because saying it out loud makes it something harder to step around.
