I reach for her. My hands won't stop shaking.
"Let me?—"
"No." Valentino pushes my hands away. "You can barely stand. I'll carry her."
He's right. I know he's right. My legs are screaming, muscles spasming from the effort of walking down those stairs. I can feel the weakness spreading through my body, the familiar numbness that means I've pushed too far.
But watching someone else lift my wife—watching Valentino cradle her against his chest like she weighs nothing?—
It breaks something in me.
"Careful with her head," I manage. "She was hit. Temple."
Valentino adjusts his grip. "I've got her. Can you walk?"
I don't know. I honestly don't know.
I grab the doorframe and haul myself upright. My legs buckle. I catch myself against the wall, breathing hard through the pain.
"Bruno—"
"I'm walking out of here." I force the words through gritted teeth. "I'm not being carried out while my wife?—"
My voice breaks again. I swallow hard.
Valentino watches me for a long moment. Then he nods.
"Stay behind me. If you fall, I can't catch you and hold her."
We move through the basement corridor. Each step is agony. Each breath burns. But I keep my eyes fixed on Antonella's pale face, on the slight rise and fall of her chest that proves she's still breathing.
Still alive.
Still fighting.
Gunfire echoes from somewhere above us. Nico's voice barks orders. Footsteps thunder across the floor.
"Clear!" someone shouts.
"South entrance is secure," another voice reports.
We reach the stairs. Valentino pauses, looking back at me.
"Can you make it?"
I grab the railing. Pull myself up the first step. Then the second.
My legs give out on the third.
I crash against the wall, barely catching myself before I tumble backward. Pain explodes through my spine, white-hot and blinding.
"Fuck." I slam my fist against the concrete. "Fuck!"
"Bruno." Valentino's voice is calm. Steady. "Look at her."
I lift my head.
Antonella's eyes are open.
