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Enzo snorts, shaking his head. “And you beat her up?”

“She attacked me,” I reply. “She almost bit off Bugatti’s arm.”

“The guy at your study, the one with the band aid? I thought a dog clawed him. Jesus,” Enzo mutters.

Alfio folds his arms, studying me like he’s trying to crack through my skull and see what’s inside. “If she is fighting this hard, then obviously, she doesn’t want to be here. Let her go.”

I meet his eyes.

“No,” I say simply. “I want her. She’ll be here, and that’s final. Get used to seeing her.”

Alfio shakes his head, disgust twisting his features. “I cannot believe you.”

He turns and walks out, shoulders tense.

Omero and Enzo exchange a look before following him, Enzo muttering something under his breath as he disappears through the doorway.

That leaves Riccardo.

He just watches me, arms folded, mouth curled in between amusement and disbelief. Then, he lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Bullshit,” he says. “She isn’t your girlfriend.”

I don’t answer.

Riccardo smirks, stepping closer, tilting his head. “You could’ve come up with something better. You’re slipping, fratello.”

I flex my fingers. “Don’t make me hurt you, Riccardo.”

His grin widens. “I’ll figure out why you’re keeping her.”

Then he turns and strolls out like this is all some entertaining soap opera.

The second the door shuts behind him, I exhale, rubbing a hand down my face.

Fucking hell.

The doctor clears his throat.

I look at him.

“I need her sedated,” I say, voice firm. “Keep her asleep for the next twenty-four hours.”

The doctor gives a short nod, adjusting the IV drip to administer the dose.

I glance at the girl one last time.

Her face is slack, peaceful in unconsciousness, but her fingers twitch slightly, like even in sleep, she’s still fighting.

I sigh and leave the room.

The moment I step back into my study, I sink into my chair, pressing my fingers to my temples.

I exhale slowly, staring at nothing.

Then I mutter to myself.

"Fuck my life."