"I didn't go through your things—what gives you the right to disrespect me like this!"
"I don't care what you and your precious Massima have going on, but you have no right to humiliate me!"
A piercing screech shattered the air.
Tires shrieking against asphalt. The violent protest of an emergency brake.
A searing pain exploded through my side.
I didn't see anything—just felt the impact, the brutal force of metal meeting flesh.
My body was thrown.
A heavy, sickening thud as I hit the ground.
I struggled to rise, my vision swimming, the taste of copper flooding my mouth.
A face loomed over me—flawless makeup, designer sunglasses perched on a perfect nose. Massima Gallo. The woman who had clawed her way back from European exile, who had stolen my research, my standing, my husband's attention.
A red stiletto heel came down on my right hand.
Ground down.
Hard.
"Ahh—!"
The scream tore from my throat in ragged, animal bursts. Bone ground against pavement. Tendons screamed. The world narrowed to a single point of white-hot agony.
Through the haze of pain, I saw Nico running toward us—his face transformed, panic cracking through his usual mask of ice.