(VALENTINO'S POV)
I stare out the window, watching the city lights blur across the glass in streaks as my father's convoy drives through the streets of Vegas.
It's just me and my father in this car.
He's seated beside me in the backseat, busy doing something on his phone.
And me?
I feel so exhausted that something as little as lifting my head from the seat feels like work.
Since I woke up from the coma, my body still doesn't feel like mine. It feels like something heavy I'm being forced to drag around against my will.
And the pain in the left side of my chest is still present, even if it's just a dull throb right now.
Ever since Papà and I left the hospital, I've been falling in and out of sleep every other minute. One second I'm awake, staring at the lights outside, and the next my eyelids are slipping shut before I even realize it.
I barely had enough strength to walk when they discharged me, so they had to put me in a wheelchair.
