A knot forms in my throat. I press my palm to the glass, my breath fogging up the window.
Deep down, I know I waited for him too.
And now, I just need him to wake up.
I want to spend more Christmases with him.
“Not dead yet, huh?” a sardonic voice drawls from behind us.
A flash of silver twirled around knuckles. A perfectly pressed shirtsleeve.
“Reactions,” Sofia mutters, elbowing Sebastian, who chuckles under his breath.
“Emotions are liabilities,” the man mutters. “Look at you two pining over Romeo over there. Useless pining. He either lives or dies. My bet? He’s fine. Surgery was successful. Two liters of blood loss but a transfusion fixed that. The damn scar from the bullet wound would probably make him look sexier.”
Sebastian sneaks a glance at me, the arrogant smirk still on his lips. “There’s no reason to worry. It’s illogical.”
Sofia rolls her eyes. “How did you get in? You aren’t family.”
The Irish mobster winks. “Lawyer. Professor. More accurately, amoblawyer in Chicago. I can get in anywhere.”
“Not worried your family will put two and two together and think you’re working with Elias to overthrow them?” I straighten when I see the doctors gathering their things.
Checkup is done.
Sebastian whistles. “Queen of the underworld, all right. Playing chess beautifully.”
“I had a good teacher,” I murmur.
He leans in. “I told them I wanted to see if the Albanians pointed the finger at our family. Those slippery Berishas…half fleeing, half resisting. Zero strategy.”
The last I heard, the remaining Berisha brothers have gone into hiding. They’re no doubt afraid of the other families.
There’s probably an extirpation with their names on it.
Dr. Hayden exits, and his team disperses.
I hold my breath.
“Mrs. Kent, his vitals are good. He’s responding to external stimuli. We thought we’d need to intubate him longer, but he’s breathing on his own. He should wake up soon.” He scribbles some notes onto his clipboard.
Shouldbeing the operative word.
“Should he wake up, we’ll keep him here for two to three days and then transfer him to a regular room for monitoring.” The doctor capshis pen and smiles. “All things considered, your husband’s a lucky man. It could’ve been much worse.”
A heavy exhale escapes me. “Thank you.”
Dr. Hayden nods and turns to leave.
But I stop him.
“Yes?” He arches his brow.
My voice trembles. “Our friend Ren…any updates? They wouldn’t tell us anything. And he doesn’t have family…”
Ren’s technically a John Doe—no last name, no next of kin. He doesn’t even carry an ID. They rushed him into surgery at the same time as Elias.
The doctor hesitates. “I can’t share details since you aren’t related. They’re doing the best they can, and I think it’s positive.”
