Vito's chest heaved. "It may not look like it right now," he barked, "but I was doing what I could to help us! That's why we're in trouble!"
She stared at him slowly, her eyes glossy but burning.
The front door flew open, slamming into the wall. One of Luca's men burst into the living room, hand already hovering near his waistband, eyes sharp and alert.
"What's going on?" he demanded. "I heard a scream."
"Nothing," Vito said quickly. "Just an argument with my daughter."
The man's gaze slid past him. He took in Veronica's rigid posture, the way one hand trembled at her side, the red mark blooming on her cheek. He catalogued it all.
His eyes met hers briefly. Then he stepped back.
"Call if you need me," he said flatly, already retreating. The door closed with a softer click this time.
Vito turned toward Veronica, the bravado gone. His shoulders slumped, apology swimming clumsily in his eyes. "Vee…"
