#Chapter 35 - The Truth About Eli

Aldo The harsh, too-sterile smell of cleaning chemicals clung to my clothes as I paced the hospital waiting room. How long had I been here—an hour, a day? I couldn’t remember. Time had lost its meaning since Carlo and I had brought Layla in. I kept replaying those last moments—Marco rising from behind the couch. Layla diving to protect Eli. Me, frozen by an instant of surprise that, clearly, hadn’t affected Layla. I’d promised to protect her. I’d failed. My shoes clicked against the tile flooring, and bleach burned the inside of my nose. I hated this place, hated every uncertain minute I had to spend here. “Mr. Marcello?” I spun at the sound of the low male voice. A tall, pale man in a long white coat stood at the door to the waiting room, a clipboard in hand. He hovered in the doorway, like he was uncertain whether he should approach. I supposed I was a bit like a stalking predator, prowling through enemy territory. Ready to attack. I tried to soften my expression in