Marco was my only family left. After Mom and Dad were killed in that fire, the one everybody in the neighborhood knew wasn't an accident, we had no one but each other.
He was only seventeen when I left. We had one fight, just one, and I disappeared into Enzo's world. Into the Montecarlo compound where no one from the old life could reach me.
And now… he was the one who pulled me out of the abyss. Literally.
"You look… good," I said softly.
"You look like hell," he joked.
I cracked a small smile. "Yeah… I feel like it too."
He reached out and brushed a strand of hair off my forehead. "I can't believe how strong you were. Holding onto a rock while bleeding out. That's something else."
I blinked. "I didn't even know I was that strong."
Marco looked serious. "You always were. You just forgot."
I swallowed hard.
"So," I said, shifting my eyes back to the ceiling. "You're successful now?"
"I run with a powerful outfit. Partnerships. Logistics. High-stakes recovery." He paused, choosing his words the way men in this life always did. "The kind of work that keeps certain families very well protected."
"Must be pretty high-stakes if you're using jets like taxis," I muttered.