I pace the length of the room again.
It’s four steps to the window and four steps back.
The polished floor reflects the movement of my heels in short, restless flashes of light.
I stopped sitting twenty minutes ago.Sitting makes the waiting worse.Standing still is worse than that.
My hands are clean now.
A nurse insisted.
Even though she knew who I was, even though I said I didn’t want anyone to check me over, she was going to do her job.The woman’s kindness and compassionate care almost undid me.
She checked me over as quickly as possible, talking in soothing tones while she checked my pulse, my blood pressure, and my injuries.
She said there appeared to be nothing seriously wrong with me, other than minor cuts from flying glass.Gently she added that the bruises would hurt and that I’d be sore for a few days and that I should take good care of myself.
I tried to smile.
But how could I with the way my heart was breaking?
At her urging, I’d washed my hands.Then I’d done it again.
Even though his blood is gone from my skin, I can still see it in my mind.
The memory presses against my ribs like a bruise.
I force myself to breathe slowly.In.Out.Control is everything.
Panic solves nothing.
The surgeon had spoken to me personally before they took Dante upstairs.
Nothing had been a surprise, though the words ricocheted in my mind.There’d been a gunshot wound, along with a significant amount of blood loss.
They were taking him into surgery immediately.
I’d nodded once, signed the authorization forms without hesitation, and asked exactly three questions:
Where was the bullet.
How much blood he’d lost.
And which surgeon was operating.
The man had answered each one carefully.
Respectfully.
The moment he finished, I’d taken out my phone and called Bella first.
Because if anyone could reach Matteo quickly without starting a panic across half the organization, it would be her.
And if the press were to get hold of the information, she would be ahead of the story.
As I’d talked, my words had come out calm and precise, even as my stomach twisted into knots.
There’s been an ambush.
