She was faintly aware of the blood running down her shoulder, warm and steady, soaking into the crushed upholstery. Her fingers found her phone in the wreckage. She could barely see the screen through the blood in her eyes, but muscle memory guided her thumb to the contact she had not called in three years.
She pressed dial.
He picked up on the very first ring.
"What is it, Mia?" Don Vittorio Valducci's voice was stern, commanding, the voice of the most powerful man in the underworld. But beneath the authority, threaded so faintly that only a daughter would hear it, was concern. "How is it that you remember your father now?"
"D-Dad..." She could barely breathe. Each word cost her something vital, something she could feel draining out of her along with the blood. But she needed to say it. She had always needed to say it.
"Mia! Where are you?! What is happening?!"
"Dad, I a-am... s-so..." A wet, rattling cough tore through her chest. "...s-sorry to disa-appoint y-you and Mom. I love you all..."