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“Stop being stubborn,” he mutters.

“Stop acting like you care,” I snap before I can stop myself.

His jaw tics, but he doesn’t let go. Doesn’t flinch. Just stares at me like he’s trying to see through me, past the mess, past the bruises, past all the shit between us.

“I do care,” he finally says, like he’s not sure if he even wants to admit it.

I shake my head. “You pushed me away.”

“And I was fucking wrong.”

That shuts me up. Alessio isn’t the type to admit when he’s wrong. Hell, I don’t think those words have ever left his mouth before.

I force myself to focus. “So, what do you want in return?” I ask because if I don’t rip the band-aid off now, I’ll overthink the hell out of it.

He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face, looking more exhausted than I’ve ever seen him. “I need to know everything you know, Liv. About your mom. About what she saw. About why your family wants you dead.”

My chest tightens. “I don’t know everything,” I say honestly. “But I’m afraid what I do know might get me killed, which almost happened.”

His grip on my hand tightens. “Not on my fucking watch.”

So, I start from the beginning, at least where I remember the beginning to be.

45

Alessio

“So, you were ten when your mom took you to a safe house?” I ask.

We’ve gone over this twice already, but I feel like I’m missing something.Third time’s a fucking charm.

“Yes,” Liv says, chewing her lip like she’s trying to relive the moment.

“I heard Mom and Dad yelling,” she starts, her voice quieter now. “He kept telling her we’d be fine, but she said we weren’t, that they’d come for her. Dad yelled at her to stay inside. I had to come straight home from school every day, but that only lasted a few days. Then they fought again because we had visitors one day when Dad was at work.”

She swallows hard. “There were four of them. They were tall and big and yelled in Mom’s face, then pointed a gun at her.”

My stomach tightens, but I don’t say anything; I let her keep going.

“I ran and hid in my room, trying to be so quiet,” she whispers, tears slipping down her cheeks.

I don’t think, I just react and slide into bed beside her. I settle on her left side, away from the IV and all the wires she’s hooked up to. I’m careful not to move too much. I know she’s hurting.

My thumb catches the tears slipping down her cheek, wiping them away gently. “Then what happened?” I ask.

She leans into my touch for half a second before pulling in a shaky breath.

“That night was the first time we left,” she says. “Detective Clover took us to a house, but we never stayed anywhere long. They always found us. Every time. So, we kept moving.”

I grit my teeth, trying to stay calm. She was a fucking kid. No child should have to live like that, running for their life, never knowing who to trust.

She swallows. “I overheard him telling my mom they’d protect us if she testified. That we’d be safe.” Her fingers twitch against mine. “And then Dad called. Said it was handled and that we could come home. That he took care of everything.”

I already know where this is going, and it makes my blood fucking boil.

“She spoke to him every night,” she continues, letting out a shaky breath. “On the cell phone, Clover gave her. Even though he told her, it was for emergencies only.” She lets out a humorless laugh. “Mom was a free spirit. She didn’t like being stuck inside all the time. She wanted her old life back. So did I. I missed my dad,” she says softly. “I know he was involved in drug dealing and a lot of bad shit, but he was good to me and Mom.”

Her voice shakes, but she keeps going, curling closer to my side. My whole fucking body stiffens when I feel her weight press against my wound, but I don’t move her.