“I took... all the bullets for you,” he whispered. “It satisfies me... that I could sacrifice my life... for yours.”
“Vincenzo, please... don’t do this. Don’t die.”
“I deserve it,” he murmured, his eyelids drifting shut.
Just then, the screech of several cars braking hard echoed through the warehouse.
Footsteps thundered in.
Renzo led the team.
They moved with military precision.
Renzo’s face paled the moment he saw Vincenzo lying motionless in a pool of blood, eyes closed, chest barely rising.
“Fuck—get him up! Pressure on the wounds, now!” he barked.
Two men immediately dropped beside Vincenzo, pressing hard on the multiple bullet holes while a third prepared to lift him.
Renzo himself knelt, checking for a pulse, his movements fast and professional, but the urgency in his voice betrayed his fear.
“He’s still breathing—barely. Move! Hospital, now!”
They lifted Vincenzo’s limp body with careful speed and rushed him toward the waiting vehicles.
Renzo spun back to me.
His eyes widened when he saw me kneeling there, covered head to toe in Vincenzo’s blood, frozen in shock.
“Elena—” His voice was tight with worry.
He crossed the distance in three strides, gently but firmly pulling me to my feet. “We have to go. Now.”
He wrapped a strong arm around my shoulders, supporting my weight as my legs threatened to give out.
The urgency in his grip was unmistakable—he half-guided, half-carried me toward the nearest car while shouting orders to the others.
“Get her in the back! Drive fast. She’s in shock.”
Inside the car, Renzo sat beside me, his hand never leaving my arm, offering silent comfort as the vehicle sped through the streets toward the hospital where my son waited in the ICU.
His jaw was clenched, eyes flicking between me and the road ahead, clearly torn between staying with me and the dying man they were rushing to save.
The rest of the drive passed in heavy silence, thick with panic and unspoken fear.
We reached the hospital garage in record time.
The car slowed, tires whispering against the concrete before coming to a smooth stop.
The engine died with a final, low rumble, and silence rushed in to claim the space.
Renzo moved instantly.
He helped me out of the car with one strong arm while simultaneously barking orders over his shoulder.
“Get him on the stretcher—now! Multiple gunshot wounds, left side and back. Keep pressure on the bleeds. Move!”
Nurses and orderlies were already waiting.
