"Two minutes, Mrs. Caruso."
I look down at our joined hands. My skin is stained a deep, drying crimson. It’s under my fingernails, crusted on my palms. I think about the basement—the way I judged him for the blood on his hands. Now, his blood is on mine, and it feels like the only thing keeping me anchored to the earth.
We skid to a halt in a basement garage. The doors fly open, and the stretcher is whisked away before I can even draw a full breath.
"Wait!" I shout, stumbling out of the car.
I chase them through a set of double doors, my heels clicking frantically on the linoleum. We hit a set of swinging doors marked SURGERY, and a nurse with a face like granite steps into my path.
"You can't go any further, ma'am."
"That's my husband," I snap, trying to shoulder past her. "I need to be in there. He needs to know I'm there."
"He's going into surgery, Mrs. Caruso," the nurse says, her voice firm but not unkind. "The best thing you can do for him right now is sit down and let the doctors work. You’re covered in road grit and blood. You’re a transition risk."
"I don't care about?—"
"Gia."
I spin around. Matteo and Enzo are walking down the corridor, their faces grim. Matteo looks like he hasn't slept in three days, his suit jacket gone, his tie loosened. Enzo is staring at my dress, his jaw tight.
"She’s right," Matteo says, reaching me. He puts a steadying hand on my shoulder. "You can't go in there. They have to move the lead. They have to stop the internal bleed."
"He saved me, Matteo," I whisper, the bravado finally crumbling. I look down at my hands, my vision blurring. "I saw it. He looked in the direction the shots came from and... he just threw himself over me. He didn't even think about it."
Matteo’s expression softens, a look of profound, weary understanding crossing his face. "I know. We saw the footage from the yard. He didn't even hesitate. That’s Rafael. He protects what’s his."
Am I his? Is that what this is? A man guarding a piece of property, or something else? Something I’m too terrified to name?
"Why?" I ask, and I hate how small my voice sounds. "Why would he do this for someone he doesn’t even care about?”
Enzo snorts, a dark, humorless sound. "A man doesn't take a bullet for a political alliance, Gia."
I collapse into one of the stiff, plastic chairs in the waiting room. My legs feel like they’re made of water. Matteo sits beside me, while Enzo paces the length of the hall, his phone glued to his ear as he coordinates the hunt for the O’Rourkes.
"You should go wash up," Matteo suggests. "There’s a private lounge through those doors. Showers, clean clothes."
"No."
"Gia—"
"I’m not moving," I say, my voice hardening. I look at the red light above the surgery doors. "I am staying right here until that light goes out. I’m not leaving him alone in there."
Matteo studies me for a long moment, then nods. "Stubborn. Rafael always said you were a pain in the ass."
"It’s one of my best qualities," I mutter, leaning my head back against the cold wall.
The hours crawl by in a haze of fluorescent lights and the distant, clinical hum of machinery.
Night turns into the grey, sickly light of early morning. Matteo falls asleep in his chair, his head lolling to the side, his snores a low, steady rhythm. Enzo is gone, likely making sure the O'Rourkes regret ever picking up a rifle. I stay awake. I count the tiles on the floor. I trace the patterns of the blood on my dress until it turns into a map of my own failures.
The red light finally flickers and dies.
I’m on my feet before the door even finishes opening. A doctor in green scrubs walks out, his mask hanging around his neck. He looks exhausted, his eyes bloodshot.
"Is he...?" The word catches in my throat.
"He’s stable, Mrs. Caruso," the doctor says, and the relief that hits me is so violent I actually stagger. Matteo is awake now, standing behind me. "The bullet fractured the scapula and nicked a minor artery. We’ve removed the fragments and repaired the vessel. He’s lost a lot of blood, and the recovery will be unpleasant, but he’s a strong man. We're moving him to the recovery suite now."
