The Woman with the Scar (Costa Family)

They’d barely been able to eat. And only that because they started selling damn near everything they owned. Most of it to the pawnshop whose owner would eventually betray them.

“Ezmeray, girl, seriously. I’m fine! They gave me the good stuff. I don’t feel anything.”

“It’s all my fault.”

“Um, you know what we’re not going to do? Take on the blame that belongs to shitty men who do shitty things to innocent women. That’s what we are absolutely not going to do.”

That was such a, well, Judy thing to say that I immediately felt a little laugh bubble up and burst out of me.

“I’m more upset about all my lovely neutral-toned furniture and rugs being stained red than anything else.”

“I’ll buy you all new stuff,” I insisted, grabbing some of the scratchy tissues off her nightstand. “Apparently, I’m pretty well-off now,” I added, shooting her a watery smile.

“Crazy how the remaining two Polat brothers went missing so soon after their brother’s murder,” she said, smirking.

“Isn’t it? They keep saying the city is getting safer and safer, but I am seriously starting to think I need to get a dog.”

“You like dogs?” Brio asked, speaking for the first time since I dropped down at Judy’s bedside, crying and begging for her forgiveness.

“Who doesn’t like dogs?” I said, looking at him like he’d lost his mind.

“You never mentioned a dog.”

“We weren’t allowed to have them in our apartment growing up. And, well, Eren couldn’t be trusted to treat other humans decently, the chances of him being kind to an animal were slim. And I couldn’t stand watching that.”

“So you like the big ones or the small ones? The fluffy ones or the short-haired ones?”

He was being weird.

“Yes,” I said, smiling. “Anyway. What can I do?” I asked, looking over at Judy. “What can I bring you? A robe,” I said, thinking of the time my mom had needed to have a minor surgery and complained how cold the hospital always was. “Warm, fuzzy socks,” I added. “Maybe a blanket, if we are allowed to bring that.”

“All those things would be nice,” she agreed. “Some contraband food,” she said, giving me big eyes. “That would be best. What is with the Jell-O thing at the hospital? Does anyone ever actually willingly eat Jell-O on their own? If they’re over five?”

“I like Jell-O,” Brio said, shrugging. “You got some extra Jell-O?”

To that, Judy sent him a soft smile. “Next one I get, I will stash away for you.”

“How long do you need to be here?” I asked.

“Salvatore said she should be here for at least three more days.”

“Salvatore?” Judy asked.

“Oh, he’s… Brio’s… friend.”

“Ah, yes, his friend. Who he also works with,” Judy said, nodding. “Does he have a medical degree or something?”

“Ah, you could say that,” Brio said. “A legit doctor wouldn’t say that, but you could. Have a buddy who took a knife to the gut recently,” he said, shrugging it off like it was an everyday occurrence, not a once and a lifetime tragic incident. “Salvatore handled it instead of the hospital.”

“You know, a part of me would have preferred battlefield medicine over the godforsaken noise here,” Judy grumbled, waving a hand outward toward the hallway where, admittedly, it had been constant noise.

Judy liked her peace.

Her quiet nights with a glass of wine and her records.

Savoring the night.

I wanted to start that tradition in my own new life. Preferably with Brio at my side, though.

“But yeah… the doctor said three more days if there are no issues. And if I don’t sign myself out first,” she added, sighing.

I didn’t want to actually say it, but we could use the extra time since Brio and I were hiring someone to professionally clean Judy’s apartment.

The cops had officially finished with it, lifting a couple prints.

The word Brio heard on the street was that the police had matched the prints and brought in a known thug-for-hire who was loosely connected to other Eastern European crime families.

Apparently, he’d been quick to cop a deal, pointing his finger right at the Polat brothers for hiring him.

Which, we were assuming, worked in our favor.

The police could easily think that the Polats figured out they were going to be brought in on charges, and promptly disappeared.

Technically, they would hold a share in my businesses until, eventually, someone had no choice but to legally declare them dead.

But since I already knew they were dead—or, at least, Berat was; I hadn’t asked about Deniz’s fate—I didn’t actually have to set any money aside for them.

Which was good because I wanted to use it to send my sister to college. And retire my mom.

I also planned on getting my mom into a much nicer place. And if any of it was left, get her all her heirlooms back.

It was a lot.

But I figured that once Brio and his guys did some digging, they were going to uncover a lot of cash stashed between Berat’s and Deniz’s places. More than enough to get all these various plans into the works.