She was about to scream with frustration when the divider lowered again. The urge to yell at them to make a choice was immense. They were the equivalent of a child playing with a light switch. Outwardly she was calm but inside she was seething.
“I understand your father was shot?” Tulio asked. “How is he?”
“He’s fine.”
“Is he though? He’s the Don’s first. If he’s injured, is he up to the task?”
“I assure you. My father is recovered from his injury. It was a flesh wound, nothing more.” She lied through her teeth. They’d removed the bullet from his shoulder while he screamed in agony before stitching him up. He refused any medications. He was undergoing physiotherapy and his own words earlier in the day was his shoulder still hurt like a b***h. She wasn’t telling them any of this though.
