"Ma." marco called.
She turned away, pressing both hands to her mouth. Her body trembled, and Marco's own fear shifted instantly. His grief, his heartbreak, all of it stepped aside for the one thing he had never been able to bear: Carol in pain.
"Ma!" He rushed forward as her knees weakened, catching her before she could sink fully against the counter. "Ma," he said again, holding her in his arms. "Look at me. Look at me. I assure you...Luca has it handled."
She gripped him tighter. "You need to leave."
"Ma—"
"No. You need to leave here. This is the first place they will look for you."
"I am not hiding."
"You must."
"I cannot run."
"Yes, you can."
"That is not who I am."
"That is who I am!" Carol cried.
The words tore out of her with a force that seemed to shock even her. She released his shirt and stepped back, wiping at her face with shaking hands.
"I run, Marco," she said. "I have run from blood, from Massimo. I know what it means to choose life over love."
"Ma…"
