"Fuck, this is fucked up," Matteo muttered under his breath. His hands were clenched into fists, his entire body radiating unrestrained fury.
The doctor, who had just finished stitching my wound, was now tending to Marcello, who looked pale as hell. His bandages were soaked in red, a clear sign that his bullet wound had reopened during the fight.
I could see the veins in Matteo’s arms, the way his muscles tensed like he was ready to snap someone’s neck.
"So… since Marcello’s wound reopened, does that mean they’ll stay longer?" I asked, glancing at Matteo.
He rolled his eyes. "Well, I guess. They’ll leave as soon as the culprits are dealt with. If I find the bastard who sold us out, I’ll fucking enjoy torturing them."
Damn.
This man was pissed.
Like really pissed.
I smirked. "Yes!" I pumped my fist in the air, only to instantly regret it as pain shot through my injured arm. "Fuck, that hurts," I hissed.
Leon chuckled. "Jeez, you love us here, huh?"