Dante’s been shot.
He’s in surgery in Austin.
That was forty-seven minutes ago.
I know because I’ve checked the clock six times since then.
Time moves strangely when the man you married is lying on an operating table.
Especially when you are beginning to realize just how much that man matters to you.
The realization is unsettling.
And impossible to ignore.
The soft mechanical hum of the ventilation system fills the room.
Footsteps echo faintly in the hallway beyond the glass doors.
Then—
The doors open.
Three men step inside.
Even if I had never met them before, I would know exactly who they are.
Morettis.
Matteo enters first, and he moves just like Dante.They’re the same height and have the same quiet, contained violence beneath the surface.
Only Matteo’s eyes are colder.
Beside him is Nico, already scanning the room with the calm, analytical focus that makes him one of the most dangerous men in Texas.
Dario follows a step behind them, his jaw set tight enough to crack bone.
They stop the moment they see me.
Their eyes drop briefly to the faint bruising along my arm.
Then back to my face.
Assessing.
Measuring.
The room goes still.
Matteo’s voice breaks the silence.
“Where is my brother?”
There is no accusation in the question.Only something far worse.Fear.
It hasn’t been long since he’d been in this situation, while his father died.
I bring him up to date with the small amount of information that I have.
