Vittoria doesn’t sleep peacefully. At first, I think it’s the events of the evening causing the nightmares, but as I listen, I’m not sure. The drug mutes things, though, that I know. Her slurred words mean I only pick up bits and pieces, recognizing Lucien and Daddy. Both of those only serve to anger me, but then I look at all the cuts and bruises and I soften, trying to wake her, at least nudge her out of the nightmare.

By morning, she’s quiet. It’s when I get a few hours of sleep myself and wake up just as Vittoria begins to stir. She rubs her eyes, rolling onto her side, her back to me. I know the moment she opens them and realizes she doesn’t know where she is because she stiffens.

“Morning, Dandelion.”

She sits up with a gasp, wincing at the pain. I’m guessing headache in addition to the bruises. Panic and confusion make her sapphire eyes go wide and wild, and I put up both hands, palms to her.

“You’re safe. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She glances at my bare shoulders and arms, then looks down at herself and sees she’s dressed. She takes in all the bandages, and I wonder what she remembers. Surely, she remembers. After a very long minute, she draws her knees to her chest and the blankets along with them, shuddering even though it’s warm.

“Where are they?” she asks without looking at me.

I lie with my elbow on my pillow, head in my hand watching her. “Away from here.”

That makes her look at me. Her eyes wander to my chest, down to the tattoo over my heart. She’s seen it before but didn’t have a chance to study it. It’s a set of heavily imbalanced scales. A heart on one dish, a skull in the other, and dandelions scattered throughout. The text underneath reads: I will carry out great vengeance on them and punish them in my wrath.

“Ezekiel. I don’t know the verse,” I say.

“25:17”

“Pulp Fiction?”

“The Bible.”

With a grin, I climb out of bed. Her eyes follow me as I move to the bathroom. I don’t close the door but switch on the shower. I strip off my briefs and brush my teeth, then step under the flow. I give her time to leave my room and go to my brother. I left the door unlocked. But when I’m done, I’m surprised to find her sitting exactly where I left her.

Drying off, I walk into the closet to pull on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

“Where is Amadeo?” she asks when I’m back in the bedroom.

“He’s around. How do you feel?”

“Like I was run over by a truck.”

“Sounds about right.” I walk into the bathroom and return with two pills and a glass of water. “Here.”