‘I wouldn’t blame you.’
She waved away my response. ‘Not only am I going to stick by you, I’m going to drag you out of this mess while I’m at it. We have plans. We’re going to finish school and go travelling and have adventures. You’re not going to end up dead or in jail from chasing around some lame arsehole who doesn’t deserve a second of your attention. Leave Jack to the police, or to Nic or even that oddball Felice, if you like, but don’t waste your own future on this idiot. He’s already taken enough of your past.’
‘I’m not leaving here until it’s done, Mil.’
She plonked herself down on the bed beside me. ‘Yes, you are.’
‘No,’ I repeated, more sternly this time. ‘I am not.’
The moment grew tight. We stared at each other, each waiting for the other to break, for someone to concede defeat. She couldn’t see the situation the way I could. She was looking at it logistically, and I was looking at it personally, and that made all the difference. This was my task. My retribution. My journey to healing.
‘I’m going to kill him,’ I said. ‘And there’s nothing you can say to stop me. Nothing.’
Her hand flew to her mouth, her words muffled by her fingers. Finally, she was getting it. She knew I meant it. ‘Jesus Christ, Sophie.’
I stared at her, unblinking.
‘You can’t be serious.’
‘I am.’
‘I am not hearing this.’ She shut her eyes. ‘This is not real. I am not hearing this.’
‘It’s the truth,’ I told her. ‘I’m going to kill my uncle.’
She was quiet for a few moments, shock and disbelief warring across her features. Then she spluttered back to life, snapped her eyes open and glared at me. She waved her hand around, as if she was painting a picture in the air. ‘So dig two graves then, Sophie. One for Jack and one for you. Actually, better yet, why don’t you dig a hundred?’ She wheeled around, pointing towards the hallway. ‘Dig one for every Falcone and every Marino and every goddamn idiot who loves you all. Dig all the graves you can before you go shooting anyone up because when this stupid-arse blood war hits we’re all fucked! The people who love you won’t walk away, and it’s your stubbornness that will get them killed, just like it will get you killed.’ She brandished her finger towards my shoulder. ‘Just like it almost did tonight. Or don’t you realize how close your shoulder is to your heart?’
‘You don’t have to be involved,’ I said. ‘I told you that.’
‘Don’t be so reductive!’ she snapped. ‘Of course I’m involved. You’re involved, so I’m involved. And you’d better pray I go down before you, because if you get killed before me then I’ll have to die twice!’ Her eyes filled up, but she kept shouting, her voice climbing higher and higher. ‘How could you have so little regard for your own life?’
‘What life?’ I asked. ‘The one Jack took from me? That life?’
‘You control your own life, Sophie!’
My head was starting to swim. I needed to lie down. I needed to sleep. ‘I’m tired, Mil. I can’t have this argument again.’ Not with her, not with Luca. ‘I know what I’m doing. I know where I’m going.’
She shook her head at me, her hands coming down to my wrists, clasping around them as though she could pull me out of my thoughts. ‘Get out of here, Sophie. Before it’s too late.’
‘There’s no way out. Can’t you see that? I’m marked by the Marinos. They want me just as much as I want them.’
Millie scrunched her nose. ‘No,’ she said, searching for something to say. ‘This can’t be it.’
‘It is,’ I said firmly. ‘This is the safest place. The only place.’
‘Then go to the address your father gave you,’ Millie said. ‘At least for a while. Until you figure out—’
‘Are you crazy? What makes you think I trust my lying, murdering father?’
‘He loves you, Sophie. He wouldn’t trap you.’
‘Wouldn’t he?’
Millie shook her head. ‘He wants to help you. And now I get it. I didn’t understand it at the time, but he knows how deep in you are.’
‘I threw the address away,’ I reminded her.
‘You must remember it. At least some of it. Isn’t it worth investigating?’ she pressed. ‘It could be like a safe house … they wouldn’t look for you there.’
‘Unless my father tells them to.’
‘He’s not a monster,’ Millie said. ‘You know he wouldn’t do that.’
‘That’s the thing,’ I said, another wave of exhaustion careening over me. I sank backwards against my pillow. ‘I don’t know that. Not any more.’
‘You’re fading.’
‘It’s the pain meds,’ I said, struggling to keep my eyelids open.
Millie huffed a sigh. ‘Let’s put this on pause until you’ve slept it off. Let’s get you into your pyjamas.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I murmured, unzipping the dress. My hands were moving in slow motion. The sides of my vision were fuzzy. There was no pain in my shoulder now. ‘The dress is stained.’
Millie helped me shimmy out of it, doing most of the work while I just flopped around like a marshmallow.
‘I don’t care about the dress, Sophie.’
I wriggled into a T-shirt and sweatpants. ‘I wish you did.’
‘No, you don’t,’ she said.
‘I wish you were less observant.’
‘I wish you were less stubborn.’
‘You’re just as stubborn as me.’
‘Yup,’ she said, helping me under the blankets. ‘That’s how I know I’m going to win.’
‘Win what?’
My eyelids were drooping. I felt at peace, like I was floating above myself. The argument was far below me, in another place.
She tucked the duvet around me. Dropping her voice, she brushed the hair from my face, and her voice followed me into the darkness as I drifted off. ‘I’m going to win this argument. I’m going to drag you out of here if it’s the last thing I do.’
Then I was gone, and so was she.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
BREAKFAST
‘My cereal tastes funny.’
‘That’s because you’re still high,’ Nic pointed out. ‘How many painkillers did you take this morning?’
I held up two fingers to him while I crunched. ‘Everything tastes like marshmallows.’
‘That’s because you’re eating Lucky Charms,’ he said, laughing.
I smiled at him, my mouth still full. I imagined I looked like a chipmunk.
‘How’s your shoulder this morning?’ asked Elena, who was making an elaborate fry-up across four pans.
‘It’s OK,’ I said, rotating my arm to see how much it hurt.
Yup. Still hurt.
Felice was at the head of the table, peering at me over his frothy cappuccino. ‘Welcome to the Gunshot Club, Persephone. Do you feel invincible?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Should I?’
‘No,’ he said, his smile curling. ‘You shouldn’t.’
I stored that veiled threat along with all his others and demolished another spoonful of Lucky Charms while the smell of bacon filled up the kitchen.
‘How many eggs, Gino?’ Elena asked over her shoulder. She was still dressed in her silk dressing gown, her long dark hair spilling in waves down her back.
‘Six,’ he called out, his words warping around a mouthful of toast.