**MATEO'S POV**

I sat in the car like a ghost.

The engine was off. The parking lot of the hospital was quiet under the midday sun, but inside my head it was a warzone. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly my bruised knuckles screamed in protest. Blood - Rafiq's blood - was dried under my nails, smeared across my forearms, and soaked into the collar of my shirt. I could still feel the impact of every punch, the way his face had given way beneath my fists.

Sweat rolled down my back. My chest felt too tight. Shame, regret, and raw fear churned inside me like poison.

What...