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much else after the painkillers and the exam. His bones at least weren’t broken, just battered, large-scale bruising causing the pain. Clearly, he had not been meant to die. “Much better.” He reached out to cover her hand with his, glad that the swelling around his wrists was down, too. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
    She nodded bravely and squeezed his hand. “We stand together, Stefano. I was just so afraid for you . . .” She swallowed, but gave him another brave smile. Good, strong woman.
    Stefano glanced at Silvio. “Any news?”
    “Vince is still alive. Unless there’s a serious change in his condition, he looks like he’ll pull through,” Silvio said.
    “Good man.” Stefano raised his hand—and that hurt, tore at the muscles in his shoulder, in his arm, and every fiber that connected to it—which seemed to be every goddamned muscle in his body apart from his dick—and briefly touched Donata’s hair. “We’ll need a war plan.”
    Silvio nodded. “It’s on?”
    “Oh yes,” Stefano hissed. “They’re not getting away with this.”
    Silvio nodded again, black eyes showing no emotion whatsoever.
    Not even pity, and Stefano was unspeakably glad for that. “Donata, you’ll have to leave the country. I can’t put you even more at risk.”
    Men who talked about turning other men into “goats” might do some very unpleasant things to women, too. “They’ve threatened you once.
    I can’t see you in danger.”
    “Battista could hide her.”
    “Or she can travel to Milan—maybe just stay with friends, but not family. Nobody they think you might turn to. Keep moving. What’s really important is to pretend we’re all scared now and scrambling to safety.”
    Donata looked dubious. “You can’t fight back in this state.”
    “I can. It’s not what they’ll expect. If word spreads of what they did, I’ll lose a lot of respect. I need to act now.”
    She pressed his hand again. “Sometimes I wish I were a shooter.”
    “You’re my wife; that is far more important.” Stefano noticed something flicker in Silvio’s eyes and gave him a small headshake.
    “Silvio here will watch my back, okay? You pack and head for the airport. I need to know you’re safe.”
    She nodded and stood. “Book me a ticket, please?”
    “I’ll get on it.” Silvio pulled his phone out again. “Milan?”
    “Yes. Next one out I can get.” She leaned into kiss Stefano, careful to not touch his nose, but even his lips hurt after all those punches.
    Silvio left the room, and Stefano touched her cheek again. “I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”
    “Just get better, love.”
    What to say to that? If only he could hide under a rock and wait for the pain and the problem to vanish. He watched her leave and fought to get to his feet, but everything hurt when he moved, every muscle tight and brittle.
    Eventually he managed to get dressed, even if bending down to put his socks on or stick his feet into the trousers left him gasping.
    But he needed to show presence, needed to be strong. He shook three painkillers from the bottle and swallowed them with a mouthful of water, then headed downstairs.
    Half the men in his organization were already there: most importantly, his underboss Augusto Viero and half the capos . The rest were expected to call in soon. Stefano shook hands and took pats to the shoulder without wincing, but it cost him. The consensus was to hit back with full force as soon as possible, but most didn’t know who or what they were dealing with it.
    Over a long conference session in the pool room, they gathered what they knew about members, strengths, locations. Anything Russian or even Eastern European was suspect.
    Only the painkillers got him through the meeting. Stefano was glad when he could leave the finer points to Augusto. He should have taken a greater interest, and he would, later, but right now he was in no state to discuss tactics, so he retired to his bedroom.
    He woke up again,