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trying to tell me?”
    “It’s…my fault. It’s all my fault.”
    “What is?”
    “The explosion, my sister’s kidnapping—all of it.”
    “How can you be so sure? They haven’t found the person responsible for the explosion yet.”
    “There are things I cannot say. Not right now.”
    His tone suggested there would come a time when he told me everything I wanted to know. Too bad I didn’t believe it.
    “Let me in, Giovanni. Trust me. Please.”
    His face changed and I understood. It wasn’t about not trusting me, and it wasn’t about not letting me in. It was trepidation over how I would view him once I crossed over to the other side, finally understanding the entire scope of how he lived. Even after a year together, it was still a risk he wasn’t willing to take.
    I stood. “I’m not sure what’s happening or why you’re so afraid, but I need to stay.”
    There was no rebuttal this time, no trying to convince me otherwise. He looked at me like he hadn’t expected anything less, even though he knew he needed to try.
    “Please don’t be disappointed,” I continued. “You’ve always looked out for me whether I’ve been aware of it or not, and I am grateful for everything we’ve been through together. But I can’t run. I can’t hide. I just can’t. Whatever this is…I need to see it through.”
    He reached out, pulled me toward him. We kissed, and I tried to deny feeling like we were embracing for the last time.
    “I love you, Sloane. You will always be a part of me.” He cupped his hands around my face. “There are a few matters I must attend to when I leave here. There’s a good possibility I’ll be away for a while. I believe it would be best for us to—”
    He choked back the words.
    “To what?” I asked.
    He looked away.
    “Giovanni, please.”
    “It would be best if you didn’t see me anymore.”

CHAPTER 7
    “Do you want to talk about it?” Maddie squirmed in the passenger seat of the car, trying to get comfortable.
    “About what?”
    “Whatever happened at the hospital just now? You look like you’ve been stricken with a deadly virus. I talked to Daniela. Her brother lost an eyeball—so what? He’s going to be fine. He’ll get one of those glass eyes, and I tell you what, I’ll bet it makes him even hotter.”
    “I’m not worried about his eye,” I said.
    “What did he say to you?”
    “He thinks the explosion is his fault—like someone has a personal vendetta against him and his family.”
    “And they’d blow up an entire building, injuring and killing innocent people, because of it?”
    I shrugged. “He thinks everyone he cares about is in danger right now—including me.”
    “What about Carlo? What did he have to say?”
    “Nothing. He didn’t say one thing about a personal connection. He confirmed a few people had died and said pressure-cooker bombs were responsible for the blast. It doesn’t make any sense.”
    Maddie tipped her head to the side. “Sometimes it never does.”
    …
    The outside of the police station was impregnated with men in suits when we arrived. The suits were black. The shirts were white, button-up. The ties were navy, maroon, or black—muted—nothing flashy. From the neck down, they looked like adults wearing the same school-assigned uniform. No personality, no sign of individuality anywhere. I hoped for a hot-pink sock, a diamond-stud earring, anything to suggest there was even one renegade within the organization. I settled with disappointment.
    The chief stopped us in front of his pickup truck before we parked the car.
    “I thought we were meeting in your office,” I said.
    “Best we talk out here. Too much corn inside.”
    “Corn?”
    “You know—ears. People listening.”
    “Any updates?” I asked.
    “A fourth fatality has just been confirmed, two others are in critical, and we’ve still got a few dozen injuries, most from those sitting closest to the stage. The chairs absorbed about half of the blast or we’d