The first thing I feel is the cold. It is a deep, biting cold that seeps through the floor and into my bones. My head throbbed with a rhythm that matched the heavy beating of my heart. Every pulse felt like a hammer striking the inside of my skull. I try to open my eyes, but the lids feel like they are glued shut with dried blood and grit. I groan, the sound raspy and weak in the silent room.

The last thing I remember is Santino’s office. Blurry images of the way the light caught the gold ...