I turn. Matti is already moving, and standing still in the flow of people moving out of the pavilion is Tommy. Matti and I pick up the pace, and when we reach him, Tommy starts walking. We fall in step beside him.
He brings us through a service corridor and out through a door, down a set of stone steps to a lower level of the estate where the walls are thick and the light is different.
Vin is there.
Laid out on a thin cot, his jacket gone, his white shirt torn open on one side, Vin is pale, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow. There is blood everywhere.
A man is standing next to him, checking him out.
“Hey Doc,” says Matti, his eyes on Vin. “This is Sophie, Vin’s… Sophie Bellamorte. Sophie, this is Dr. Rossi, the Demonio family resident doctor.”
Dr. Rossi nods at me but holds up a hand to keep me at bay as I try to go to Vin. My vision goes white at the edges. Shoving Dr. Rossi out of my way, I move to Vin’s side.
His eyes flicker open, and I gasp. Thank God. I cross myself and kiss my fingers. He doesn’t say anything. He looks exhausted, an exhaustion so intense it looks like grief.
“I’m here,” I say.
His jaw moves, but he doesn’t speak.
Dr. Rossi moves to the other side of him as I take Vin’s hand. It’s cold, his knuckles torn, and I hold his hand in both of mine, trying not to cry.
“We need to move him,” Matti says behind me. “The Edge has a full facility—”
“No.” I keep my eyes on Vin. “He stays here. I can take care of him here.”
Matti opens his mouth, glancing at Tommy who raises his eyebrows but says nothing.
“He stays here,” I say again.
Matti closes his mouth.
I lift my gaze to Dr. Rossi. “Tell me.”
Dr. Rossi is tall, stiff, reserved. In this moment, that is exactlywhat I need to quell the intense freak out bubbling just below the surface.
“Blast concussion, significant soft tissue damage along the right side. Damage to two ribs, possibly three; I need imaging to confirm. Lacerations across the back and shoulder. I need to check for internal bleeding and I want him monitored through the night.” He pauses. “He will be fine.”
I think I nod. Breathing is very freaking hard right now.
“You,” Dr. Rossi says, shifting his attention to me, “need to sit down.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are gray.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I need you focused on him right now.”
Dr. Rossi narrows his eyes at me. “He is stable. His vitals are strong. I have done what needs to be done before we move him to a room.” A pause. “The same cannot necessarily be said for you. If you are Vin’s… If you are Vin’s, my job requires that I ensure you are okay medically.”
“I am perfectly—”
“Sophie.” Vin’s voice is jagged like his throat is riddled with broken glass, but his gaze is steady. His hand turns in mine and his fingers close around my wrist. “Sit down.”
“I will sit down when—”
“Sophia.”
The commanding way he says my name undoes something in me. I hear it echoed across every time he touched me, every time he took me, every time he said it in my ear as he came inside me.
