I pry my eyes open, the world blurring into a soft, golden haze. The fluorescent light overhead is too bright, making me wince as I try to focus. Slowly, things come into view. The IV line taped to my hand. The figure sitting beside me, with a hint of lavender perfume, cutting through the clinical smell of disinfectant.
“Mamma?” My voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.
She turns sharply, her rosary clinking against the armrest of her wheelchair as she reaches for my hand. “La mia bella rosa.” Her voice trembles with relief.
Something small and warm curls against my other hand.
“Mum.”
Angelos.
My chest clenches as I turn my head, finding my sonpressed against the bed, his cheek resting on my arm. His dark lashes flutter against pale skin, exhaustion tugging at him, but he’s here. He’s safe.
A sob catches in my throat. I want to hold them, bury my face in their warmth, tell them I’m okay even if I don’t feel okay, but I can’t move.
The relief I feel is washed away with dread as I scan the room. “Where’s Dan?”
I search the room again, my heart rate picking up, the beeping machine showing my panic. He’s not here.
My fingers tighten around Mum’s. “Where’s Dan?” My voice cracks, barely concealing the terror clawing at my ribs. “Is he?—”
Dead.
No. No, I can’t do this again. I can’t lose him.
Mum’s lips part, but before she can answer, the door creaks open.
And there he is.
My breath stutters, tears blurring my vision as he steps inside. His broad shoulders fill the doorway, the familiar set of his jaw, the stormy grey of his eyes locking onto mine. He looks exhausted—his skin pale, his movements slow—but he’s alive.
“Dan.”
The relief is instant, overwhelming, like air rushing into lungs that have been starved for too long. My body screams with pain, but I don’t care. He’s alive, and he’s here.
His lips curve, just slightly, but his face is drawn, his hand bracing against his stomach as he moves towards me. His steps are careful, measured, like every inch he covers takes effort.
Mum must see it too because she lets go of my hand and gestures to Angelos. “Come, tesoro. Let D’Angelo sit down.” She gives Dan a warm smile. “This man hasn’t left your sidethe whole time, and you have to go and wake up while he’s having physio?”
“Physio? For what?” Panic grips me again.
Angelos gives up his chair for Dan and stands at my bedside.
Dan lowers himself into the chair beside me, wincing as he does. His hand presses against his stomach, pain flashing across his face before he forces it away.
“You’re hurt.” My fingers twitch to reach for him, but I don’t have the strength. “You got shot too?”
His brows pull together before understanding dawns. “No, fiore mio.” His voice is rough, like he’s been through hell. “I’m fine. Just sore.”
I shake my head, trying to sit up, but the pain under my ribs flares, making me suck in a sharp breath. “You’re lying. You’re in pain.”
His jaw clenches, his hand resting over mine. “Don’t worry about me, Rose.”
My breath catches. “What happened? What about Elio? Where’s Elio?”
“Everyone’s fine, Rose,” Mamma says.
Dan exhales slowly, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. “Do you remember what happened?”
