Chapter Fifty-Two

He comes into the room to give me an ice pack. I stare at it in his hand. "But the doctor didn't say anything about ice."

Enzo makes an impatient sound at the back of his throat. "It's for the bruise on your cheek. I don't care what they say. Ice helps, I've been using it for years."

I take it from him and press it to my cheek. I didn't even know I had a bruise there. I'm much calmer now that all of that mess is behind us. Sometimes, though, when I think about how close they got to abducting me, chills race down my spine. Nowhere is safe, and this has fueled my paranoia.

Thinking about who might have sent those men is pointless. I can't imagine myself walking through the streets without looking over my shoulder, or even leading a normal life. Will I always be persecuted by Mafias and old family feuds? All I've ever wanted was a peaceful life.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

I shrug. "I'm tired of this. It's exasperating."

"We don't know who those men were. I'd stay there to questio