It takes twenty minutes, maybe less. A surgeon in a cap and mask pulled down around her neck stops at the desk, gets pointed our way, and walks over. Everyone stands withoutbeing asked. The men break their huddle in one move and come back.
“Family of Antonio Conti?” she says.
“Yes,” Luca answers.
“I’m Dr. Patel,” she says. “I was part of the team in the OR.” She checks her notes once, then looks up. “We’ve controlled the bleeding. The bullet tracked across the right upper abdomen and nicked a branch of the hepatic artery. We repaired the vessel and addressed a small tear in the liver. He lost a significant amount of blood, but we’ve stabilized his pressure.”
“Is he out of surgery?” Elena asks.
“They’re closing now,” Dr. Patel says. “He’ll go directly to the ICU. He’s critical. The next twenty-four hours are important—watching for re-bleed, infection, and how his numbers hold.”
“Can we see him?” Bianca asks, voice steady but soft.
“Briefly, once he’s settled in the unit,” he says. “Two at a time to start. He’ll be intubated and sedated.”
Caterina’s voice is small. “Is there anything we can do?”
The doctor’s mouth goes flat. “All we can do is monitor and wait for now.” Then he says, “But if you’d like to do something, the hospital is always grateful for blood donations. For things just like this.”
Luca nods once, decisive. “We’ll do it. All of us.”
The doctor gives a short, approving nod. “I’ll ask the nurse to bring you forms. Someone from ICU will come get you when he’s ready for visitors.” He meets Luca’s eyes. “He’s a strong man. We’ll keep you updated.”
“Thank you,” Luca says.
The surgeon moves back toward the desk. A nurse appears almost immediately with a stack of clipboards. “If you’re donating, fill these out. The donor center is on one.”
“We’re donating,” Luca repeats, taking the whole stack. He starts passing them out. “We’ll go in shifts so someone is up here at all times.”
Papers move from hand to hand. Bianca is already clicking a pen and filling in her name. Elena guides Luca to a chair and hands him a clipboard; he signs without looking down for long.
Giovanni and Vito head for the elevators with their forms. Nico stares at his, then takes the pen from Bianca and starts writing.
Caterina looks at me. “You don’t have to,” she says.
“I can,” I answer. “Type O-negative. Universal donor.”
Her mouth tips into a quick smile. “Of course you are.”
We sit again, pens scratching, the TV still muttering to itself in the corner. It isn’t much, but it’s something to do. Something that might matter when everything else is out of our hands.
Chapter Thirty Six
Roberto
The elevator doors slide shut, and we’re alone. For a beat, it’s just the fan in the ceiling and the soft clunk of the car moving.
“Thank you for being here,” I say. “For bringing Cat.”
“No need to thank me,” she answers sharply.
My jaw ticks. “Noted.”
She exhales, shoulders easing. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. Caterina’s thanked me like fifty times already.”
“It’s fine,” I say. I stare at the floor numbers. “She leans on people she trusts.”
Olivia looks down at her shoes and gives a small nod. The car dings for one, and we step out.
