{GIANNA}
Who did this to me?
Who the hell does he think did this to me?
Rage propels me forward. My hand slams into his chest, but he doesn't even flinch. So I hit him again, and again, and again, my lips trembling as I spit out, "What business is it of yours who did this to me?"
"Gianna, love, I–"
"Why are you here?" Another hit, but this time his hand catches mine, his fingers snagging on the necklace wrapped around my wrist as he presses my palm flat against the heat of his chest.
I don't know why, but my gaze drifts behind him—to Uncle Aldo, whose mouth hangs open, face ghostly pale as he glances between Michael and me like a frantic little rodent.
"Who did this to you, Gianna?" Michael asks again, his voice carrying a dangerous edge.
Uncle Aldo slowly shakes his head at me, his eyes flicking to the corner of the room. I follow his gaze and—oh.
For the first time, I see Dario. Cowering.
Not so brave now, are you, cousin?
