“Nita and I are leaving. You’re free to do whatever you want. I’ve left your phone in the front hall. It’s dead, I’m not sure where your charger is. If you can’t find it, just knock on one of the apartment doors in the building. I’m sure someone will let you borrow theirs.”

Gold blinked at him, long and slow. “You’re really just letting me go?”

“Yes.”

She opened and closed her mouth, her face a picture of confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Kovit sighed. “You don’t have to understand, May. It’s okay. I hope you have a good life.”

He gave her one last smile, took a deep breath, and turned back to Nita. “Okay, let’s go.”

Gold watched them leave with huge eyes as the door closed behind them.

Kovit’s steps were heavy as they crossed the hall to Fabricio’s room. Nita wanted to say something, anything to make him feel better, but she didn’t know what. She didn’t think she could understand the emotions that led him to release a threat, that led him to care about a person who so clearly hated him.

She tried to imagine that their roles were reversed and she’d been betrayed by a friend. But Nita didn’t have any friends except Kovit. She imagined it was her mother who betrayed her instead.

Well, that wasn’t too far from the truth. Her mother was always disrespecting Nita and doing evil shit. And if it was a choice of Nita’s life or her mother’s, Nita would pick her own without question every single time.

In many ways, that was the big difference between Nita and Kovit. Nita would always pick her life over anyone else. And Kovit . . . Kovit would always pick his friends’ lives over his own. More than anything, that convinced her that her mother’s threats about Kovit betraying her were utter bullshit.

She couldn’t find the words to make Kovit feel better, so she put her hand on his shoulder, and he looked at her, eyes soft and sad. Then he smiled gently at her. It was enough.

Nita took a deep breath and opened the door to Fabricio’s room.

Fabricio lay on the floor, unbound and free. His brown hair was still wet from the shower, and it clung to his forehead as he lay on his back and stared up at the fluorescents above him. His hand had been carefully bandaged, so that there was no sign of the horror beneath. He’d taped his broken nose, though he couldn’t hide the swelling or the black circles under his eyes from pooled blood. He turned his head when they came in.

His eyes were tired. “Nita. Kovit.”