The moment he saw Catarina and the baby on the floor, the infant screaming in raw, bloodcurdling wails that bounced off the sterile hospital walls and filled the corridor beyond, the color drained from his face. He dropped the bowl of porridge in his hands without a second thought. The ceramic shattered against the tile, and not a single man behind him flinched. He rushed over and scooped the baby up, cradling the child against his chest with hands that had broken bones and signed death warrants and never once trembled the way they trembled now.
"What happened? We were gone ten minutes. What the hell happened?"
"Tomasso..."
Catarina lifted her face. The handprints across her cheek were vivid and unmistakable. Three of them, layered, the kind of marks that told a story all on their own.