She motions down at herself.

She's wearing some oversize paper scrubs, flimsy plastic looking things. Guess they're tired of people stealing their real ones. "I can almost see through them."

"Yeah, well, the alternative was the backless gown."

She stares at the floor.

Something's wrong.

I can sense it.

She won't even look at me.

"What's wrong?"

"You're angry."

I pause. "Is that what's wrong?"

"Just an observation."

I walk over to her, cupping her chin, tilting her face so she'll look up at me. Her eyes look all around me for a moment before finally meeting my gaze. Sadness, along with a healthy dose of fear. That's what greets me.

I hate it.

She should be happy.

She certainly deserves it.

This was supposed to be her happy ending.

What happened to it?

"I'm not mad at you," I say. "I'm mad this happened to you, that I have to be paranoid about you going places. I'm mad that I have to be mad, Karissa, but I'm trying to not take my anger out on you, because it's not your fault. It's mine."

It's my fault without a doubt. I got her into this.

It's my job to get her out of it.

I don't know if that matters to her right now, though.

If that even makes a difference.

It sure didn't alleviate any of that sadness or fear.

"Can we get out of here?" she asks. "I'd like to really be anywhere but here."

Can't argue with that.

I hate hospitals more than most people.

I'd like to be anywhere but here, too.

She doesn't say anything as she's discharged and we head out to the car, but she notices right away when I start driving the wrong direction. She tenses, staring out the side mirror. "Brooklyn isn't north of here."

"No, but NYU is."

"So?"

"So you should pay a visit to Melody."

"What?" She turns to me, eyes wide. "Why?"

"Because right now, you could really use a friend."

Tears brim her eyes again.

She's trying not to cry.

I can tell it.

And I don't want to leave her, I don't, but there's something I need to handle. And I can't leave her at home alone, not tonight, so that leaves us with Melody.

She'll be safe there.

Because Lorenzo would never do anything to harm his little brother, not directly, so if he's going to go after Karissa again, it won't be when she's with his brother's girlfriend.

"You're going to do something, aren't you?" she asks. "You're taking me there so you can go after him."

"You'll be okay there," I say, avoiding that question. "I don't want you to worry."

"Don't want me to worry, Naz? What if I don't see you again? What if you never come back?"

I whip the car into the parking garage beside the dorms, and cut the engine before turning to her. "Don't think like that."

"How can I not?"

"I'll always come for you," I tell her. "The fucking devil himself couldn't stop me. It'll just be a few hours, morning at the latest. I promise you, I'll be back."

"But I thought you said I should keep my distance. You made me promise."

"I just wanted to know when you were around Leo, so I could keep an eye on things."

She ponders that for a moment before her eyes narrow, something seeming to strike her. "That's his brother, isn't it? Send my regards to your brother. That's what you said to Leo. That's what the guy said to me today. Send my regards."

"It is."

"That thing is Leo's brother? Seriously? And Melody is dating him?"

"Don't take it out on your friend. Once upon a time, you fell for a monster. These things happen."

"That's different."

"Maybe so," I admit. "And in that case, what you did was worse. Because Leo? He's just lightly treading through a sticky situation. Me? I'm knee-deep in it."

"But you're out," she says. "Aren't you?"

"As out as I can be."

It's what I tell her every time.

I'm not sure if she gets it.

Out only means I can sit on the sidelines, waiting until I get called back into the game. And they've been calling for me, pretty incessantly... both teams.

So I'm out, yeah, which means I'm reluctantly still in.

That's just the way it is.

"Come on," I tell her. "I'll walk you inside."

It's not hard to get into the dorms.

It's not hard to get in anywhere, honestly.

The trick is just to look like you belong.

If you act like you're supposed to be there, nobody questions your presence. It's all a matter of confidence.

We make our way right through the joke of a checkpoint and head right upstairs, to floor number thirteen. Karissa trails behind me.

I can tell she doesn't want to be here.

She doesn't want me to leave.

As soon as I reach room 1313, I raise my fist and pound on the door. It's so loud that Karissa flinches, looking at me with concern.

It does the trick, though.

It only takes a few seconds for the door to fly open.

In front of me stands a startled redheaded girl. Her eyes grow wide as she looks at me, and she retreats a few steps, away from the door, as I waltz right in.

"Sorry," Karissa mumbles, stepping in behind me.

Melody is sitting on her bed and looks up with confusion. "Ignazio?" She glances around me, at her friend. "Jesus, Kissimmee, what happened?"

"I, uh..." She slips around me to point at her cheek. "Just a cut."

That's putting it lightly.

Melody stares at her like she's crazy as she gets to her feet. "Is everything okay? What are you guys doing here?"

Karissa stammers, saying nothing coherent.

"She's had a bit of a rough day," I say. "I'm hoping it's okay if she stays with you for a few hours while I handle a bit of business."

"Oh, absolutely!" Melody smiles, feigning cheerfulness, but her concern hasn't wavered. "Karissa knows she can stay here as long as she wants."

The redhead across the room sighs loudly.

I turn to Karissa as she just stands there, arms wrapped around her chest. Nothing I can say will make her feel better at the moment, so I just press a kiss to her forehead before walking out.

Places to go.

People to see.

Blood to spill.

You know how it is.

* * *

Music thumps from the pink-trimmed house in Bensonhurst.

It's not loud enough to rattle the windows, not loud enough to disturb the neighbors, but I hear it when I approach the house, hear it coming from the front room. Voices carry over the sound, mindless chatter, even a bit of laughter.

The sound grates at me.

I wouldn't call it a party, but people are here.

They're here, and they're hanging out.

It's almost like they're celebrating.

Two cars, including the BMW I'm looking for, now without a license plate. They both can't fit in the driveway, so they're spilling out onto the curb. I swing right into a neighbor's vacant driveway, stealing someone else's spot.