“I have to go—” I start to say, but the look on Raoul’s face silences me. I know he’s right—Luca would probably kill him, literally, if he let me leave. It’s going to be bad enough when he gets back and finds out that someone was able to break in at all.
Deep down, I’m terrified and trying to hold it back. If someone could get to me—to us—even with so much security and two bodyguards patrolling the apartment, then it means two things.
One, someone helped the man get inside.
And two, nowhere is safe for me anymore.
I choke back the fear as the men come upstairs to help carry Gio down. Ana and I watch, trying not to look at the overturned couch or broken glass or the other body on the living room floor. I don’t even know who that is—it could be one of the security team, or it could be the intruder’s accomplice.
It feels terrible that I don’t know. I feel shaky and nauseous, on the verge of going into shock probably, and Ana wraps a steadying arm around my waist. “It’s okay,” she repeats. “It’s okay.”
But it doesn’t matter how many times she says it. Deep down, I know that nothing is okay.
And I’m not sure if it ever will be again.